Watchet on Watch
by LunaSeasMoonChild
Summary: What if Chuck left with Blair after his father's funeral instead of deserting her with only a note informing her of his departure? AU after 2.13
1. Flight in the Night

**DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN THE LYRICS NOR THE SORT-OF EPIGRAPHS AT THE BEGINNING AND END. I DON'T OWN GG. If I did, I wouldn't have allowed such crappy turns in plots. I'm bitter.**

_**Author's notes:**_ I was watching 2.13, "O Brother, Where Bart Thou?" and my heart wrenched in angst. Plus I went back to S02 and was touched by the sweetness when Chuck was in Blair's room and she just held him as he cried. Oh god, it warranted tears. It was a beautiful moment of hurt and comfort. Love is never interesting without some angst. And this plot bunny popped in mind when I was listening to 'Hold Me', a song by Savage Garden. It just so reminded me of that scene.

This fic is especially dedicated to **wrighthangal**, and to the members of Gossip Girls NJBC.

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**Watchet on Watch**

~the attitude of a traveler who leaves everything behind and embarks on a journey

~a volatile situation

~the need to be wary of sudden disasters or hardships

*Taken from the manga "The Tarot Cafe" (Chapter 12) by Park Sang-sun

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_**Prologue: Flight in the Night**_

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**"I might need you to hold me tonight  
I might need you to say it's alright  
I might need you to make the first stand  
'Cause tonight I'm finding it hard to be your man..."**

-_**Hold Me**_, sung by Savage Garden ('Affirmation' album)

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"What do you think you're doing here?" Blair demanded irritatedly as she sauntered into her room, feeling the aftereffect of anger at the rejection from her confession of the three words, eight letters earlier.

Chuck Bass sat in her bed, shoulders slumped, and he turned to look at her when she neared. His red-rimmed eyes ebbed the bitterness and scorn on Blair's part, as if the tears were slowly melting the ice wall.

Blair did not need to see his tears to know without a doubt that Chuck had wept for his father prior to arriving at her bedroom. It was witnessing Chuck's pain that brought her to tears, and not his loss. Just for that, she hated Bart all the more, because he seems to cause Chuck just more agony, even when he's gone. It's as if the misery Bart impaled upon Chuck's whole existence was the very rai·son d'être of Bart, and it would certainly engrave his ephemeral being upon the world, ensure that he was never forgotten by at least one person, even though he was a haunting memory.

As if a string pulled at her heart, compelling her, daring her to move, she rushed to his side, all hesitations and contempt shed as she embraced him, her arms like seams holding him together keep him from falling apart completely when he is so broken.

Chuck Bass never showed weakness, if he was ever vulnerable, there was a backlash to the witness; he would spite and hurt to push away and add a safe, albeit bitter, distance. Because then, he couldn't be within reach close enough to be hurt. That was what he and Blair shared in common, their defense mechanism. In their most vulnerable, they were the most spiteful and defensive.

But at that moment, all strength of pretense was drained from Chuck, and at the end of the day, he just couldn't put up a fight anymore, couldn't deny that his father was buried under earth with only a stone marker to lay claim that a Bart Bass once lived and walked upon the earth.

This intimacy in the midst of bereavement... Blair had never had a moment like this with Chuck, had never held him in such an embrace in which he leaned on her emotionally. They had always met each other head on, at times they glanced at the retreating back of the other, but Blair could not recall a time in which both had been too bare, stripped of whatever protective layer of their personality, besides the carpe diem night in the limo. Their clothes may still be on them, but it seemed that their hearts were that much closer than before.

Blair felt a wet streak upon her upper arm, and she knew that Chuck just shed a tear, and she held just a little bit tighter, as if afraid he would disappear in his fragility.

"I'm so tired, Blair," His voice was hoarse and much too low, brought about by bitter dejection. "I'm so _fucking_ tired."

She gently rocked him as he feebly laid a hand on her arm, a gesture of an attempt to return her embrace. His limbs were too heavy, as if the burden of his heart was paralyzing his muscles.

"You can rest here with me."

Chuck weakly shook his head in protest. "I can't sleep. It's so hard."

Blair swept a hand through his hair, a gesture that comforted him. "I'll watch over you," She whispered as she placed a light kiss over his temple, her lips lingering just a second longer. Blair then gently urged him to lie on her bed, all the while not breaking her hold on him. He did not protest nor did he physically oppose her as he lay on his side, Blair behind him as she readjusted her arm to under his neck while the other arm was over his waist, holding onto his hand, their fingers entwined. Blair began to softly sing her favorite ballad to lull him to sleep, her breath a warm caress on his nape.

_~Moon river, wider than a mile_

_I'm crossing you in style someday_

_You dream maker, you heartbreaker_

_Wherever you're going, I'm going your way_

_Two drifters off to see the world_

_There's such a lot of world to see_

_We're after the same rainbows end_

_Waiting round the band_

_My huckleberry friend, moon river_

_And me~_

As if she were a siren beckoning him to sleep, his eyelids fell closed, and within her proximity, he found a somnolent solace that had eluded him since the night his father died. Calmly and surely, he drifted off to a dreamless sleep to the sound of her singing voice and the warmth of her closeness.

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Blair stirred and a sliver of consciousness awakened her completely. Becoming aware of the absence in her bed, Blair opened her eyes and sat up, catching Chuck standing over her desk.

What are you doing, Chuck?" She saw him stiffened, but he did not turn to face her. "Come back to bed and let's go back to sleep."

Chuck remained silent and tense for far too long.

"Chuck?" She called out again, this time, sliding off the bed. "What are you doing?"

He still did not turn to regard her and she did not dare to approach him. Stiffly, Chuck angled his body towards her, but his head was bowed, avoiding her.

"I was going to write you a note."

Blair tried to make light of the situation trying to uplift a corner of her mouth in jest. "A thank you note?"

"I was planning on leaving."

Blair's breath painfully caught on her throat, the tears pricked her eyes, as if her heart were pinched.

"I can't stay here anymore. I just can't." He swiftly turned his back on her, and as his voice choked at the end, Blair rushed to him and embraced from behind, pressing her cheek against his back as she tightly closed her eyes to stave off the tears. In his weakened state, he couldn't fight her off, and she was grateful that he didn't. Chuck's breaths deepened in quick successions as he struggled with his emotions that threatened to wring the tears of grief out of him.

Chuck gripped her hand, but did not attempt to pry her off. "I-I don't want to be here anymore. I want to go."

Blair fisted the material of his shirt, tightening her grip. "Then let's go."

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Dorota crept quietly towards her ward's room. Last year, she learned to be wary in approach whenever Blair and Chuck were in a room. The first and last time had been scarring, and Dorota did not know who should be more embarrassed: her for walking in on them or Blair who was caught having sex. Either way, Chuck was unhindered. And neither was Blair.

Dorota strained her hearing for any telltale sounds, and after confirming the silence, she dared to quietly knock even though she didn't want to disturb their sleep, choosing not to peek inside.

"Miss Blair?" Dorota tapped on the door a few times. No answer, so Dorota knocked again and called out her ward's name once more. She tried a few times, but she remained unsuccessful in rousing any of the inhabitants of the room. After much internal struggle, Dorota deemed it safe to go inside, deducing that both might be sleeping. She didn't know whether they had clothes on or not, but she needed to wake up Blair.

Turning the knob slowly, Dorota opened the door just an inch and peered inside the room. She frowned, and opened the door wider. She stepped in, feeling imminent in the silence of the room.

The room that was now abandoned when there were two people here just last night.

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"What is taking her so long?" Eleanor muttered to her newlywed husband as they were having breakfast.

"Maybe Blair isn't up yet, dear. The ceremony lasted very late and even though she retired earlier than the rest of us, maybe she's sleeping in because she's tired from helping to prepare a wedding in just a short span of time." Cyrus ate his muffin while trying to placate the impatience of his second wife.

"Dorota!" Eleanor called out to the maid she had sent up to fetch for Blair. Eleanor and Cyrus were leaving for their honeymoon shortly, and she wanted her daughter to see them off. "Dorota!"

Shortly after, the resounding heavy thumps of feet hurriedly descending the stairs was an announcement of Dorota's haste to answer to her employee's summons.

"Dorota," Eleanor addressed the Polish maid as she appeared huffing in the dining area of the Waldorf penthouse. "I trust that Blair is getting ready? I thought I made it clear that I want her to join me and Cyrus in our first breakfast as husband and wife."

Dorota took a few more deep breaths before approaching Eleanor from her side and leaned down to whisper something in her ear before handing her a piece of paper Dorota stuffed in the pocket of her apron.

Eleanor opened the folded paper and read the brief message written.

_I'm sorry I left without word. I don't know when I'll be back, but don't worry about me. I'm with Chuck._

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_**"Forget the world we know. Tonight at twelve we change ourselves."**_ -Anonymous **[2]**

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**[1] **Taken from the manga **"The Tarot Cafe"** (Chapter 12) by Park Sang-sun (mangaka, author/artist).

**[2] **From an artwork in deviantart. I don't know by who, because I just saw the picture from my sister. If anyone knows, please PM me or review to tell me the artist and the title of the artwork, and I will credit it ASAP.

_**A/n:**_ Written while listening to Owl City's "Vanilla Twilight". So… is it worth reading? Should I continue? X_x =_=

I can promise you now, that the Chair I portray will stay together no matter how difficult or overbearing the tribulations thrown at them.

I need the fics to preserve Chair. JS/SS have COMPLETELY KILLED THEM. I'm so not watching s04. Fuck Paris. It doesn't mean anything anymore. I am in a state of bemoaning. And yes, I did cry for a good hour when I learned the spoilers and WAS WARNED OF THE EPIC FAILNALE. GG is going down along with JS/SS. They fucking dug their own fucking graves. Talentless asswipes should go back and take basic playwriting classes. I did not watch GG because it was a daytime soap. At this point, I just want GG to sink. Ed and Leight are better off engaging in better roles than the sorry down turn of GG.


	2. Journey to the Past

**DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN THE LYRICS&TRANSLATION OF THE SONG "Life is Like a Boat" sung by Rie fu as the ending theme of the anime **_**Bleach**_**. I DON'T OWN GG. If I did, I wouldn't have allowed such crap in the show. I'm bitter.**

_**Author's notes:**_ I felt like crying while writing this chapter because I was listening to Monica's "For You I Will". Goddamn! Why couldn't the writers just… make them stay together but at the same time encounter tribulations that don't destroy them? These people don't believe in LOVE!

Btw, if you find Chuck OOC in the following chapters, take note that at the prologue, Chuck is already opening up to Blair. Instead of pushing Blair away as he is grieving, he crumbles in his vulnerability and lets her in, allowing her to accompany him and witness his anguish and grief.

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**Watchet on Watch**

~the attitude of a traveler who leaves everything behind and embarks on a journey

~a volatile situation

~the need to be wary of sudden disasters or hardships

*Taken from the manga "The Tarot Cafe" (Chapter 12) by Park Sang-sun

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_**Chapter I: Journey to the Past**_

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_**Nobody knows who I really am  
I never felt this empty before  
And if I ever need someone to come along,  
Who's gonna comfort me, and keep me strong?**_

-_**Life is Like a Boat**_, sung by Rie fu (BLEACH ED)

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**Upper East Siders, this just in:**

**C&B are nowhere to be found. It seems they've run away together to an unspecified location just after the funeral. A romantic getaway, or a clandestine elopement? If anyone has any details on the itinerary of C&B's trip to parts unknown, let me know. Also, be on the lookout for a certain accessory on the ring finger when you spot them, and inform me right away. Or maybe a small B-bump.**

**xoxo,**

**Gossip Girl**

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Blair stirred from a sudden lurch of the vehicle due to a pothole, the slight disturbance enough to rouse her from her deep nap. She lifted her head, blinking from the bright sunlight that hadn't been present when they took off from the city.

Sensing that she had awoken, Chuck groaned and shifted his head, which had been using Blair's shoulder as a pillow.

Blair returned to her earlier position and laid her cheek against his hair.

"Go back to sleep," Blair hushed gently and slightly tightened her hold on his hand, their fingers entwined in alternation. But Chuck groaned in protest, his head already off her shoulder as he leaned forward still groggy and feeling a heavy weight on his head. Letting go of his hand, Blair wrapped her arm around his shoulder and gently but firmly compelled him to lie down on his side so he could sleep with his head on her lap. This time, he didn't object, and he easily slipped back to sleep as soon as he laid down, Blair's thigh his new head rest. His hand then crept up, searching for Blair's hand like a vine would seek sunlight. Giving into his silent heed, Blair took his hand in hers once again while her other hand ran through his hair as she hummed _Moon River_ once again, a gentle insistence on her part for him to sleep as much as possible.

Ever since Bart's death, Chuck's sleep had been troubled, and whatever small ounce of sleep that came over him was riddled with nightmarish images of a newly deceased parent who was a disapproving father right until the last minute. Awakening didn't offer escape from those horrid illusions conjured by his tormented subconscious, and reality was even more cruel than his dreams. So he drank to lose all coherence. But no matter the high alcohol content, it did not halt the grief that was slowly breaking him. The only repose from suffering that he experienced was when he sought out Blair. He didn't know what purpose drove his fumbling steps to go to her, couldn't even remember how he got in her room, but when she held him, he relaxed, though still mournful. He hadn't planned on crying to her, but when she rushed to embrace him, the dam he had set up behind his eyes was breeched, showing his vulnerability falling in the nadir of his life that seemed to be far, far deeper and darker than the six feet of soil his father was buried underneath.

Blair sighed, letting her head fall back, her eyes closing as she continued to comb her fingers through Chuck's dark tresses. Somehow, she couldn't regret impulsively making the decision to go away with Chuck when he expressed his intention, his _need_, to run far, far away from the place they considered home. It didn't mean that they could also easily leave behind the misery, but maybe there was better chance of recovery when far from the focal point of grief. With only a brief, hastily written note, she didn't hesitate in taking Chuck's hand and sneaking out of the penthouse in the dead of night. Chuck only paused in their getaway to empty several ATM accounts of his, not bothering with the amount withdrawn. He stuffed the thick wads of bills in all the pockets he had, and Blair hailed down a taxi. Chuck then unceremoniously demanded that they be driven out of state and handed a wad of cash, roughly 3,000 dollars, to the driver whose eyes widened at the offer and cash that he both accepted all at once.

With only the clothes on their backs, Chuck and Blair took off without a backwards glance to the familiar streets, without a nostalgic gaze to the city lights. No goodbyes as they held hands in the back of a dingy taxi, as they embarked on a travel that they didn't know how long would last. The only solace in the midst of this uncertainty was the fact that they would be together on this excursion. As long as they were together, they couldn't ever be lost, not with one anchored to the other to keep them from drifting off or drowning beyond salvation.

Along the eight or so hours of travel that took to get to the address Chuck gave the driver, Chuck only had them stop to buy food and take bathroom breaks, along with a few gas fillings for the taxi, which Chuck paid for. Most of the time, Chuck and Blair drifted off to sleep, while the taxi driver downed coffee to force his alertness on the road, because Chuck didn't want to stop by a motel for a quick nap for the driver's sake.

The dozing runaway pair weren't aware that the taxi had stopped, and they were only awakened by the tired and relieved proclamation of the taxi driver that they had arrived, a wake-up call for his slumbering passengers. Blair yawned and stretched her arms while Chuck rubbed the sleepiness off his face. Chuck pulled out several 500-dollar bills and wordlessly handed it to the driver as tip before Chuck and Blair stepped out of the yellow cab, their backs aching and legs stiff from being restricted in the car for several hours of continuous travel.

"Why if it isn't Mister Bass and Miss Waldorf."

Chuck and Blair turned to the woman's voice who greeted them, her Southern accent evident in her welcome. A woman in her 60's stood under the covered porch of the mansion, in front of the double doors. She wore a thick wool sweater over a dress, and a shawl was wrapped around her shoulders to provide additional warmth. The braided rope of her graying hair was displayed over her shoulder, reaching down to her waist. The matronly housekeeper offered a smile as she walked down the few steps to approach the new arrivals, but mostly to welcome the inheritor of the ancestral house, a historical house reminiscent of the South, of the Confederate and the plantations, with its Greek pillars and tall French windows.

The housekeeper had no prior notice of their arrival, but she appeared to them with an inviting smile, as if she was not at all surprised, just highly hospitable, that the two teenagers had arrived.

"Harriet," Chuck greeted her with a slight nod of his head while Blair smiled meekly, surprised that the old woman still recognized her from her and Chuck's secret summer visit prior junior year.

At the side of the Southern mansion, another building, a brick house much smaller than the main residence, the front door opened and a man stepped out to join the small assembly.

"Mister Bass! Miss Waldorf!" The pudgy male caretaker, also Harriet's husband of more than twenty years, heartily acknowledged as he approached the yellow taxi.

"Come on in," Harriet waved her arm to gesture the visitors inside.

Chuck and Blair started to follow Harriet inside when the cabby coughed loudly to catch the attention of his passengers.

"Uhm, excuse me," The three halted and turned around to look at the exhausted man as he removed his flat cap as a gesture of modesty. "Do you know a motel or somewhere nearby where I can get a room? I'm pretty tired and I really need to sleep before going back to New York."

Harriet and Marion looked at Chuck who nodded his consent.

"We can accommodate you. We have empty rooms." Marion laid a hand on the driver's shoulder and extending an arm to show the way, Marion led the cabby to the adjacent house, the servants' quarters during the Confederate war, but now the home of the couple who looked after the estate in the absence of Chuck, who had inherited the property from his late aunt, his mother's sister.

Harriet then turned to lead Chuck and Blair inside the house. "Now come on in, it's cold out here."

Chuck and Blair made their way behind Harriet inside the massive house.

"Would you like to eat first? Or maybe some tea?" Harriet addressed the duo who both simultaneously shook their heads in refusal.

"So are you two always just going to appear unexpectedly when you decide to visit?" Harriet asked with a grin and a raised eyebrow as she looked back at the two teens while she walked ahead, leading them up the winding staircase that led to the second floor, where six spacious bedrooms were currently uninhabited but still maintained by Harriet.

"This was an impulsive decision on our parts," Blair responded with a polite smile. She shifted her eyes at Chuck, who turned the other cheek. Blair had expected him to inform Harriet of Bart's demise, but he didn't speak a word. Harriet stared at Chuck, sensing that something was being withheld. The old woman wisely chose to establish her silence, but not before glancing at Blair who diverted her sight to the polished wooden flooring after a second of curious eye contact with the caretaker.

Harriet stopped at a door and pushed it open. "Here's your room, Miss Waldorf."

The room was the same one she previously occupied during her and Chuck's first sojourn to the South.

Blair gave a polite smile in return, a gesture of silent thanks, and went inside her room, Harriet closing the door to give privacy to the occupant. She heard Harriet lead Chuck away, and from what she could deduce from the sounds, his room was just across from hers, the same room he stayed at the summer they took a covert trip to this place to uncover a portion of Chuck's mother's past.

Blair let out a deep breath and kicked off her heels. It had begun to feel uncomfortable during their eight-hour drive, but she refused to take it off within the taxi; the car floor could be a Petri dish for bacteria and she may as well be walking barefoot in the streets of New York if she ever let her soles touch the carpet.

Though Chuck and Blair had spent most of the travel time sleeping, Blair still found exhaustion in the cricks and stiffness of her muscles. She wanted to plop on top of the comforter and pass out in slumber, but she felt grimy, as she was still wearing the same dress from yesterday and she refused to keep on the outfit for two days straight.

With great difficulty, Blair managed to pull down the zipper on the back of her dress. She laid it on top of the four poster bed before heading to the bathroom, where she stripped herself of her undergarments. The bath tub, positioned horizontally across the doorway, served also as a shower area with the shower head and taps installed on the wall above the tub. A floral opaque plastic curtain provided cover to whoever was bathing or showering. The traditional bathroom vanity set, made of mahogany with a marble counter and installed sink along with an oval mirror, was a little farther from the head of the tub. Both were against the same wall, but the toilet bowl was located at the adjacent wall, the width of the loo's dimension.

It had been Chuck's idea to make the accommodations of each room like that of a hotel. When Chuck and Blair had come in the summer of '06, the uninhabited rooms were drab and empty, the sparse furniture covered in dusty sheets. The two of them, with permission from the terminally ill Misty, made it their personal project over their stay to redecorate not only the six bedrooms on that floor, but the whole house as well, except for the master's bedroom where Misty stayed in wait for the inevitable. The two teens bought furniture, chose wallpapers, searched for home décor, repainted walls, modified the thermal insulation of the home… they had the Southern house rehabilitated. They infused a home-sweet-home ambience that replaced the somber tone of the aged residence. When they had finished, the fulfillment was immense, and seeing Misty's approval and pride at the home improvement was a greater reward. The success of the renovation project was actually what prompted Chuck to pursue Victrola as an investment.

A bath before sleep was the first step of Blair's typical bedtime ritual, so she opened the tap to wait for water to fill the tub, and decided to look over the bottles of bubble baths, shower gels, and bath oils stocked on the countertop. Blair found a supply of lavender and lilac flavor combination of shampoo and conditioner in one of the five drawers aligned at the sides of the single cabinet of the bathroom vanity.

Blair turned the faucet on, allowing warm water to freely flow into the tub. She sat at the porcelain edge while waiting for the tub to be full, which did not take all that long. She immersed herself into the tepid water, finding relaxation in keeping her mind blank.

A few knocks later startled Blair out of her thoughts.

"Blair?"

Blair's head turned sideways, surprised to hear her name being called by Chuck.

"Blair?" Chuck called out once again before knocking again.

"Come in," Blair answered. She heard the telltale sound of the creak of the opening door.

"In the bathroom." The bathroom door was slightly open, so her voice wafted clearly for Chuck to hear.

Approaching the bathroom door carefully, he once again softly knocked on the wood, if only to give her another heads up on his proximity. "Blair?"

Blair's back straightened, her bosom still hidden under the water. She twisted her torso, the front of her body parallel to one side of the tub, her hands gripping the top of the white porcelain so she could better face the direction of the door.

"I'm going to have Marion go to town to buy us a few things. What do you need?"

"Uhm…" Blair scrambled her thoughts, trying to make a mental list of the immediate necessities she needed at the moment.

"Uhm, I guess… a change of clothes…" She only had the dress she wore at her mother's impulsive wedding. "_Underclothes_…" She mumbled, embarrassed that it might come off that she was trying to seduce him. She cleared her throat and with a shake of her head, went back to the task at hand. "Uhm, toothbrush and… hair brush…?" She had much more demands of beauty products for her routinely grooming, but she was suddenly overcome by a bout of bashfulness to request for extravagant amenities. "I guess I also need a pair of shoes, preferably flats or sandals. My heels just won't do."

A moment of silence before Chuck spoke. "Is that all?"

"Yeah, that's all. Some of the stuff I need are already here."

Lotions, shampoos, towels were already stocked. There were even scented candles near the bath tub. She didn't have her period, so she wouldn't need tampons.

"It won't take long."

"Okay, Chuck. Thanks."

Blair waited to hear a response from him but she only heard his footsteps on the way out her room before her bedroom door closed. She sighed loudly and slumped in the tub. This awkwardness that they had been navigating through was more confusing than their game of cat and mouse. They tiptoed around each other, unsure of how to act. Well, Blair thought, this concord of uncertainty was better than the spite and cruelty that came with pushing away people.

A certain memory visited Blair in her musing. When they were eight years old, Blair's paternal grandmother, Camellia Waldorf, endearingly known to the NJBC as "Grandma Camellia", passed away in her sleep, due to old age. The funeral was held on a weekday, and Blair had been excused from school. Blair remembered the surprise she and her father had when Chuck turned up at the Waldorf penthouse early that morning, requesting to come with them for the funeral. Harold at first wanted to send the boy back to school, but Chuck had begged, Blair had begged, and Harold relented, knowing how the Bass boy, who had never known his grandparents like he had never known his mother, was very close to the deceased Waldorf matriarch, who had coddled him as much as her own granddaughter. During the post-funeral repast held at the Waldorf abode, when Harold and Eleanor were too busy greeting guests and accepting condolences to pay attention to their only daughter, Chuck held Blair's hand while she sat unnoticed in the living room as she tried to not cry. Later on, Chuck tugged at her hand and led her to her grandmother's room and into her granny's walk-in closet, where Blair finally sobbed and cried as Chuck held her hand, the two children crouched and safely hidden by the hems of dresses that had not yet been packed for storage. Not once did Chuck let go of her hand that day, even when all the guests had left and the caterers had finished cleaning up. He stayed at the Waldorfs, diligently staying by Blair's side, until Bart came back from his business trip and took Chuck home.

Blair wanted to do the same for him. This time, it was her turn to hold Chuck's hand when he was valiantly trying to hold in tears and hide him away in an enclosed space where he could feel safe enough to cry. But back then, she had wholeheartedly welcomed his proffered comfort. This time, she risked indelible hurt to see him through his grief. She didn't know if she was strong enough, but she hoped she was stubborn enough, and maybe foolish (or perhaps in love; was there a difference?) enough as well, to stand by him even if he spurned her company.

Blair wallowed in the water as well as thoughts. When the bathwater turned cold, Blair finally stood and pulled the rubber plug to drain the water so she could primp herself with shampoo and body gel before getting out. Carefully tiptoeing to the bathroom vanity, Blair opened the right bottom drawer, where towels and a robe were stored. Drying with a towel first, Blair afterwards donned a robe and left the bathroom. With nothing to do and nothing to wear, Blair decided to just sit on the bed. Though more refreshed at the moment, her body could still feel the travel fatigue from eight hours of continuous commute from New York to a small town in Virginia.

She didn't know how long she was spaced out and doing nothing but rubbing her toes in the rug, but as her bedroom door opened, Blair immediately got on her feet at seeing Chuck.

"Hey…" Blair didn't really know how to start a conversation with Chuck at that moment, and asking if he was okay was absurd and might spurn him.

Wordlessly, Chuck approached her from where she stood at the bedside, and in his hands were folded clothes, a toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, a pair of flats, and a cotton bra-panty set on top, all bought from Walmart by Marion. Chuck then transferred the items in her hands.

Normally, Blair would've been repulsed to use anything purchased from such a commoner establishment, but such petty cares had unknowingly been thrown away, left behind as well, when they left New York with nothing but the desire and decision to disappear. "Thank you," Blair said with a small smile which wasn't returned as Chuck just stared expectantly at her. Blair placed the things he gave her on the bed and discarded what was on top of the clothes. He had given her five folded articles of clothing, and Blair stretched out the first one. She stifled a gasp at recognizing the dress. She carefully set it aside on top of the bed, before looking through the rest he had given her.

He had given her a wool turtleneck sweater and the rest were 80s dresses, vintage, classy and elegant by her standards yet simple enough for daily wear. Were Blair the one to roam through the clothing collection, she would've chosen the same dresses for herself.

Blair's eyes widened as she turned to him. "Chuck, are these…?"

"My mother's." Chuck answered her unfinished query. "You have the same size."

Blair flushed. Of course Chuck would know her cup size, shoe size, dress size, and waistline. He probably knew her vital statistics, which wouldn't surprise Blair like the fact that Nate didn't even know any of her favorite brands.

Chuck shrugged, avoiding her by staring at the dresses spread out on the bed. "I wasn't sure which one you'd like to wear, so I thought I'd let you choose." He had become absorbed in going through the dresses and selecting which pieces Blair would most likely want to wear. In the end, he couldn't settle for a specific one, so he thought he'd give her the freedom to choose from a selection he had narrowed himself.

That meant Chuck had gone to the massive attic, a whole floor in itself with the contours of the roof as a low ceiling. Racks of pressed outfits, footlockers with albums or personal items, trunks of clothing, and even antique furniture and toys occupied most of the attic space. Out of all the items stored, the clothes were the most carefully preserved. Blair had organized all the clothes that belonged to Evelyn that were left in the house, and kept the wardrobe in the attic, along with Chuck's grandfather's clothes that were left, consisting of suits. Misty's belongings were still kept in her room, the master's bedroom, as Chuck had requested it not to be moved out.

"Chuck, are you sure you want me to wear these?"

"Yes." His voice was almost a whisper. "I'm sure they'd look beautiful on you." There was a hint of melancholy in his eyes.

"Besides, it's the least I can do for you, taking you out here to the South on a whim." Finally, Chuck turned to her, walking closer until he was just a short breadth in front of her. "Thanks for coming with me."

When Blair had run into complications with Emma, after that debacle Chuck told her how she could always trust him to come to her rescue when she called to him. So she would return the words, swear that she would also come to him when he called. With a small smile, she lifted a hand to his cheek. "For you, Bass, anytime."

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_**Nobody knows who I really am  
Maybe they just don't give a damn  
But if I ever need someone to come along  
I know you would follow me, and keep me strong…**_

-_**Life is Like a Boat**_, sung by Rie fu (BLEACH ED)

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_**A/n:**_ My brain is still so fucking fried with how those asswipes of writers FUDGED UP Chair to make dung mix. I'm going to say this again, the EPIC FAILnale was a fucking SHIPWRECK. Character assassination has a whole new meaning. Believe me, if I were to apply what I've learned from my scriptwriting class, 3.22 is such a FAILURE it deserves a Razzie award.

Anyways, there are some details that may leave you wondering. I actually have a prequel in mind for this. I have a tendency to weave together fic ideas of mine. The supposed prequel takes place in the summer before S01, a Chair roadtrip. That's all I'm giving away. I might be hinting at it in this fic for background. Ugh, the super delayed update was due to the research I had to do for the architecture of Southern plantation houses and the effing bathroom, just for the friggin' description. X_x And I was in a slump and fighting this writer's funk I've found myself in recently.

**REVIEWS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED, even one-liners. ~^_^~**


	3. Reminiscent Reacquaintance

**DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN GG NOR THE LYRICS and ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS OF THE SONGS "Mr. Déjà vu" sung by Naja and "Cross My Heart" by sung by Day-break.**

_**Author's notes:**_ Frankly, I'm appalled and insulted at how shallowly the writers have portrayed depression. It's not a pretty journey, it's not an adventure, and it's certainly not a driving force for libido. On the contrary, depression actually inhibits sexual urges. Verbatim: "reduced sex drive". Symptoms of depression also include hallucinations/delusions. That's why I don't buy the shipwrecking OMFG moment of 3.22. And that is why I say 3.22 is POORLY WRITTEN, and those who claim it was a "superb" episode has no concept of quality writing. It's just not right, not right IN ANY ANGLE. XP

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**Watchet on Watch**

~the attitude of a traveler who leaves everything behind and embarks on a journey

~a volatile situation

~the need to be wary of sudden disasters or hardships

*Taken from the manga "The Tarot Cafe" (Chapter 12) by Park Sang-sun

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_**Chapter II: Reminiscent Reacquaintance**_

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_namida sae mo denai kanashimi ga kono yo ni aru_  
_fukaku hateshinai yami ni kakomarete-iru you na..._

_**/In this world there's sadness so profound you can't even cry**_  
_**Like you're being surrounded by a deep, endless darkness.../**_

-Cross My Heart, sung by Day-break (Ayashi no Ceres ED2)

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Early the next morning, Chuck found himself awake and more tired than before, as if the long hours of sleep on a downy mattress of a king-sized bed had not granted any respite.

There was no rest for the wicked and the grieving, it seemed, as Chuck hauled himself off the bed, grabbed a handful of cash, and trudged down the stairs. He came to the dining room where Blair, Harriet, and the cabby were sitting at the dining table, breakfast served.

"Good morning, Mister Bass." Harriet greeted as she turned to refill the cabby's cup of coffee. The cabby thanked her with a nod, taking a sip before resuming eating his bacon and eggs.

Blair stood up to approach Chuck by the doorway. Their eyes connected, and Blair immediately spoke. "You should eat—"

"I'm not hungry." He cut her off, and sidestepped her to approach the cabby. Chuck slapped the cash next to the cup of coffee.

"You don't tell anyone where we are. You don't remember this place, you don't remember how to get here, you don't remember our faces. Do we have an understanding?"

The cabdriver looked disbelievingly at the bonus fee for his silence. He didn't know the deal between his two passengers; he had actually thought they were eloping, but apparently, their circumstances were less simple. Wordlessly, the cabby took the cash and counted. "Actually, I never made this trip at all," he stated as he pocketed the money. He stood up and retrieved his hat which was also on the table. "Thank you for the lovely meal, but I should get going." The cabby nodded at the people in the room, a gesture of farewell, before Harriet led him to the front door.

"Come sit and have breakfast." Blair pulled out a chair next to her.

Chuck avoided her eyes. "I'm not hungry."

Before, Chuck was always the one urging her to eat, and now it was her turn. "Nonetheless, you should eat something."

"I said I'm _not hungry_." Chuck snarled.

Blair braved his apparent spite; she could face it because this was familiar. "You need to eat."

"You're telling me to eat when you can't even stomach a full meal?"

That was a low blow, and Blair bit her lip, trying not to let the hurt of that statement burrow deep, though it stung like a slap instead of a stab.

Chuck simply turned away, and almost ran into Harriet who was on the way to returning to the dining room.

"What liquor do we have in the house?"

"There's not a drop of alcohol in this place. Miss Misty's rule and I'm not going to break it." The disapproval in the elderly woman's face was apparent as she held up her nose in the air, daring to challenge Chuck's authority. She stood firm arms akimbo, unmoving in her stance.

Chuck pulled out another wad of cash and began counting the bills. "Get Marion to buy me scotch or vodka or gin. Stock up on whatever strong alcohol is available in town. Just not beer."

"Chuck—" Leaving her seat, Blair touched his elbow but he quickly shrugged her hand away, like it had been a pesky irritation that disgusted him. The dismissive action didn't warrant a bruise, but it really hurt Blair where it mattered, a bull's eye to the bleeding heart.

By now, Harriet had her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised in disapproving disbelief. Unfazed by the older woman's expressed displeasure, Chuck held out the bills in front of her, shaking it a little to urge her to take it.

Blair reached out to lower his hand. "Chuck, don't—"

"It's not your call, Blair. Back off," Chuck retorted as he vehemently pulled away his arm from her. He then turned to the housekeeper, about to extend the wad of cash when his face suddenly riveted to the side.

Blair gasped in shock as Harriet slapped Chuck. Of all the times Blair had been bratty and snobby to the help, Dorota had never ever raised a hand on her. Blair was immobile in shock at what happened, but in seeing scarlet appearing on Chuck's pallid cheek, Blair dared to move closer to Chuck, holding a hand to cover his slapped cheek, her palm a cooling balm to the inflamed skin as she tried to catch his eyes. Chuck remained stationary, and Blair's mouth closed and opened as she alternately looked to Harriet and Chuck, not knowing if she should chastise the aged caretaker or ask about Chuck's wellbeing.

With the bluntness of a Southerner and the stubbornness of a redneck, Harriet held up a finger while her other hand rested on her hip. "Now listen here, son. I've been working here since your momma and aunt were tykes; bless their souls," For a slight moment, Harriet laid a hand on her chest and looked upwards, paying reverence in mentioning the dead, before turning her sights once more on Chuck, intent on delivering a scolding neither Chuck nor Blair ever received before. "I don't know if Miss Misty told you, but she hated alcohol and so did your momma because they saw how it ruined their Daddy's life and to an extent, theirs as well."

Harriet took a deep breath and slowly let it out, and her demeanor visibly softened. "I don't know what your problems are, or what you're escaping from by coming to this place, but I will not allow you to poison yourself with alcohol. God knows I promised your Aunt before she died that I'd look after you when you come to live in this house, and I will. Miss Misty does not condone alcohol, and neither will I."

Blair had been staring at Harriet as she spoke, but when the elderly woman went silent, Blair turned to Chuck, who had yet to turn his head forward.

"Chuck—"

He had been motionless the whole time, and he did not show any indication that he heard what Harriet said, but Chuck gripped Blair's wrist and harshly threw it down to remove her hand. Wordlessly, he walked past Harriet and rushed up the stairs, before the slam of a door echoed loudly.

Blair suppressed the tears that filled the brim of her eyes as she held up her hand that Chuck had unceremoniously flung down. Somehow the pain was more in her chest than in her wrist.

Harriet sighed audibly and turned to regard Blair. "I'm no busybody, and I don't like nosing around other people's business and all, but I'm concerned about that boy and about you."

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After the taxi driver's departure from the estate, a few days passed with no incident, just a sullen countdown to the nearing of Christmas. Surprisingly, Chuck and Blair kept communication to a minimum, and Blair didn't push to prompt any sort of opening up from Chuck. He barely spoke and he rarely left his room. He would only come down for lunch and dinner. He never joined breakfast as he would still be sleeping and Harriet would only rouse him when he would be called for lunch. With Chuck's unwillingness to converse, it had been up to Blair to inform Harriet and Marion that Bart had died from a car accident, and the shocked couple did not have the heart to disrupt Chuck's mourning phase. Marion advised Blair to let Chuck be for a while; the male caretaker had lost his mother to a heart attack, and he knew that when you lost someone, you needed time to grieve alone, and all loved ones were pretty much just spectators with support waiting in the wings.

But today, a change occurred in the sleep-eat routine that Chuck had taken. After lunch, instead of returning to his room, he strode out the back of the house, where there were no fences that bound the borders of the property. A lake, frozen at this time of the year, was located at the back. The lake had a short pier with a gazebo built at the end, where there were benches against the handrails, leaving a considerable space in the middle for picnics. Misty had taken them there once, and told them childhood stories of Evelyn, Misty's younger sister and Chuck's mother. In the gazebo by the lake, Chuck sat on one of the benches, looking out the ice.

Through a window, Blair worriedly stared at Chuck, his back hunched and his stature unmoving that he seemed to be a frozen specimen of winter, akin to the deadened trees whose leaves were replaced by white patches of snow.

"Why don't you go out there to him?" Harriet finally asked as she stood next to Blair, also looking at the immobile figure at the distance. "You've been standing there for more than an hour, just watching over him."

Blair ran a hand over the back of her neck as she bit her lip. "I don't want to disturb him. I mean, I'm just making sure he doesn't go off too far and get lost, or do something... crazy." The uncertainty of how she should proceed made Blair frustrated, but she knew she would drive Chuck further away if she took a step forward when he didn't want to be approached.

Harriet sighed as she turned to the teenager. "Honey, I know we said to give him time and space, but sometimes, you need to step up, and reach out to them when they're drowning too deep in their grief, before you lose them."

Blair glanced at the older woman, her eyebrows scrunched in uncertainty as she bit her lip once more. As Harriet held out a jacket and a scarf, she nodded sideward, a silent and small urging gesture for Blair to go out and approach the lone figure outside. Blair's chest heaved, as if strengthening her chest with bravado, taking the proffered jacket and scarf and putting them on before she opened the French patio doors and stepped out to brave the cold and Chuck Bass.

The snow crunched underneath her boots, making for unstable footing, and her feet dipped about an inch with every step. She felt her knees wobble, which she preferred to attribute to the uncertain ground and the cold climate.

Blair could see the definitive puffs of her breaths as she reached the gazebo's cover. Chuck didn't heed her arrival, so Blair chose to forego any greeting and stood still, not knowing her next step.

Still staring blankly ahead, Chuck finally acknowledged her presence with a query. "Why are you here?"

She didn't know what to do, how to approach him, what to speak to him about, so she chose sincerity, her last resort in confrontation that she had always undermined, deeming it a weakness. "I don't want you to be alone."

"You're not my girlfriend, and you're not my wife."

Blair knew it wasn't a jab of cruelty; he was just curious, and this interrogation was a search for answers to perplexities he had of her choice to leave with him. This wasn't him trying to turn her away or goad her in leaving.

Blair shrugged. "You're one of my best friends."

"I've hurt you so many times."

"But I still love you."

Blair never thought she'd say it again given the aftermath of her confession when he stormed out of the repast, but at this moment, even with the thick bundle of clothing to preserve their body temperature, Blair felt so stripped of whatever covering she had on her person. The first time she said those three words, eight letters, she expected to hear them returned. But now, she didn't expect any similar declaration, and it was enough that he hadn't chosen to cruelly jilt her so she would shun him to leave him be with his misery.

Chuck still did not turn his head to look at her, so in a move Blair considered bold, she sat down next to him.

"I've come this far with you. I'm not going to leave you."

Blair wondered how many times she had to reassure him. He was more flight-risk; a selfish streak in Blair wanted a reassurance as well, that he wouldn't just bolt in the middle of the night to some other country like Thailand. Even without his original passport, Chuck could very well have a fake one made; international borders wouldn't be able to fence him, and she wouldn't be able to run after him or reach him.

A memory came to Blair's mind, how Chuck reached out to take hold of her hand during the repast for her grandmother's funeral. Wordlessly, Blair did the same, and prayed that the gesture would bring the same relief it did her. "I just want to be here for you."

The contact prompted Chuck to turn his head to look at her. Not knowing what to say further, Blair just returned his gaze. Finally, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer so his lips could touch her temple. "Thank you," he whispered as his forehead now rested where his lips had been for just a moment. His breath was a cold mist on her ear and neck, but Blair was grateful for the proximity, that they'd taken a step closer to lessen this unseen distance. Blair's hand came up to hold on to the side of his neck as his head dropped to settle on the crook of her neck. They stayed still in that position; the only movement coming from Blair's thumb as she stroked the skin exposed from his collar. Soon his breathing evened out, and Blair sensed with certainty that Chuck had relaxed, maybe even lightly sleeping. Tentatively so as not to rouse him, Blair rested her cheek on his black tresses. Her hand went lower, running up and down his forearm, friction warming her cold fingers. She sighed and closed her eyes, just savoring their closeness. When he leaned on her like this, she could rest her fears, could reassure her apprehensive heart that he wasn't going to disappear and leave. Her helplessness clawed at her sensibility and mocked her inability to do something to ease his grief. This small opportunity to comfort him made Blair feel needed, that she could do something, no matter how small, to help him.

Lately, Chuck had been sleeping a lot. He would sleep straight for fifteen hours or more but still looked deprived of rest. Blair noticed the weariness in his gait, how he trudged like he had a ball of chain on his leg, how his eyes drooped in fatigue from misery, how the dark circles under his eyes were like the shadows that haunted him. As soon as she got out of bed, Blair would immediately check up on him in his room; he would be under the covers, slumbering heavily that delivered no respite upon awakening, no matter the long, undisturbed hours. The only positivity Blair garnered from it was that he wasn't drinking nor was he indulging in drugs or mindless sex. But this lethargy in place of alcoholism was still a sign of depression.

Even behind closed eyelids, Blair couldn't stop the building up of tears, and a few dribbled down her cheek and the bridge of her nose. She tried to hold down her crying, but as she drew a lungful of air, her breath hitched, awakening Chuck.

Chuck stirred and lifted his head to look at Blair, who quickly brushed away the traces of wetness on her face. But she couldn't hide the sniffle as she took another breath to calm herself.

"You're crying...?"

Blair shook her head, unable to look at Chuck. She was embarrassed at her show of emotion and frailty; she wasn't the one who lost a parent. Blair wanted to show a strong front, she wanted to be his rock at this point in his life, but here she was, clumsily crumbling in front of him at the worst possible moment.

"Why are you crying?"

Blair wanted to ask him instead, _why aren't you?_, but when she turned her head to face him, unbidden tears spilled faster from her eyes, and her face scrunched up as she succumbed to answering his query.

"It hurts to see you hurting." Blair rasped, and her hand flew to press on her lips to stifle the oncoming sobs. His eyes studied her, and she removed her hand from her lips to cup his cheek. His eyes closed and he sighed, before he leaned closer to her and touched his forehead to hers.

"I don't know what I can do for you," Blair spoke, her voice lachrymal.

"That's enough," he whispered.

Whether Chuck was telling her to stop crying or that her efforts sufficed, Blair's tears ceased to overwhelm her.

They stayed outside until sunset.

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That night, Blair was just lying on her bed, staring at the wooden paneling of the ceiling, when she heard a faint knock on her door.

Blair quickly sat up. "Come in," she called softly to her night visitor. The door opened just a crack, inviting a sliver of dim yellow light from the hallway into her darkened bedroom. The person's face was silhouetted, with the lighting behind him. But even if his face was half hidden by darkness, Blair could tell that it was Chuck, even if his voice hadn't given him away.

Blair waited for Chuck to speak, but he didn't, so Blair chose to initiate conversation. "Chuck? Do you need anything?"

Silence was the reply. Blair was about to ask him again, but he quickly shook his head, as if derailing a train of thought. "Never mind," Chuck said. He was about to close the door, but Blair, overwhelmed by an irrational fear that if she let Chuck close the door he'd forever be closed off to her, unintentionally blurted out her honest thoughts, if only to keep him from turning away.

"I'm here for you," Blair said as she changed her sitting position on the bed as she tucked her legs underneath her. "It's not shameful if you need me."

Her voice stopped him from closing the door, but he remained unresponsive, as if he could speak up to say what it was he came for.

Blair patiently waited for a reply, and after a brief caesura, Chuck did react.

"I can't sleep."

Blair bit her lip. She knew what Chuck was too proud to ask for, but she wanted to draw him out, wanted him to utter his request. She wanted to hear his voice; he was too morose, too indulged in his grief that Blair could feel this invisible barrier thickening around him that he would not break out of, as if he were cocooning himself in silence and anguish that occluded Blair. She just wanted him to tell her straight on what he needed her for, what she could do to alleviate his sorrow, instead of her blindly guessing what was on his mind.

"Just tell me. I'm not going to turn you away." Blair encouraged, but for a while, Chuck persisted in his silence, but he didn't move away either.

"I just... Can I sleep next to you?" His request was spoken so softly, like a child seeking solace after experiencing a night terror.

Blair pulled back the covers, an invitation. "Come here." She patted the side of the bed as she scooted over to give him ample space on the queen-sized bed.

Chuck walked to her bedside and slid under the thick comforter. He settled on his side, facing away from her, as if hiding his embarrassment.

In a bold move, Blair shifted closer to his back and laid an arm over his shoulder, embracing him from behind as she laid a kiss on his nape. Chuck sighed in relief, and his eyes fluttered close in the beginning stirrings of what he hoped would be serene somnolence.

"Blair?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks, Blair." He whispered softly as he reached over her extended hand and wove their fingers together.

"You're welcome." She whispered equally soft and sleepy as her eyes closed.

"I'm glad you're with me." And in a softer voice, almost as if he didn't want her to hear, "I don't really want to be alone."

Blair didn't think she needed it, but his admittance served also as assurance, that he needed her there with him, that she wasn't just a useless tag-along or a hopeless pursuant. "Go to sleep. I'll still be here tomorrow."

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_tsuyogatte ita nowa dareyori yowasa wo shitteta kara_  
_koronda kizu kowareta yoru mo mimamoru youni kimi wa..._

_**/Though you were stronger than all others, I knew your weakness**_  
_**I watched over you on those nights [when] your scars seemed overpowering.../**_

_**-Mr. Déjà vu, **_sung by Naja (GetBackers OP)

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_**A/n:**_ Forgive me for the uber-delayed update, so to make up for it, I had a double update, with lengthy chappies. ^~^

**Hypersomnia** is also one of the symptoms of clinical depression. In case you weren't aware.

5 stages of grief:

**1. Denial and Isolation.**

At first, we tend to deny the loss has taken place, and may withdraw from our usual social contacts. This stage may last a few moments, or longer.

**2. Anger.**

The grieving person may then be furious at the person who inflicted the hurt (even if she's dead), or at the world, for letting it happen. He may be angry with himself for letting the event take place, even if, realistically, nothing could have stopped it.

**3. Bargaining.**

Now the grieving person may make bargains with God, asking, "If I do this, will you take away the loss?"

**4. Depression.**

The person feels numb, although anger and sadness may remain underneath.

**5. Acceptance.**

This is when the anger, sadness and mourning have tapered off. The person simply accepts the reality of the loss.

I just wanted to share that tidbit. Just in case you were wondering what the hell is happening with Chuck and Blair in this fic. And apparently, as I read in Wikipedia, not all stages are experienced (at least 2 stages) and not always in order too, and sometimes bunging back and forth.

_**SOURCE:**_ http(:)(/)(/) .

**REVIEWS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED, even one-liners. ~^_^~**


	4. Hauntingly Hollow Holidays

**DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN GG NOR THE SONGS 'Kohaku no Yurikago' by Yonekura Chihiro and 'a little pain' by Olivia Inspi'REIRA AS WELL AS ITS RESPECTIVE ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS.**

_**Author's note:**_ If it's too cheesy... well. Blame it on the Angst. Romance and Angst and Drama have a way of bringing out the cheesy-ness in me, especially in Chair. I need this over-the-top cheesy-ness to make up for the vomit-inducing BULLSHIT storylines of S04.

I'm trying to heal the broken Chair in my heart and mind.

A post-Christmas gift for all devoted Chair fans.

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**Watchet on Watch**

~the attitude of a traveler who leaves everything behind and embarks on a journey

~a volatile situation

~the need to be wary of sudden disasters or hardships

*Taken from the manga "The Tarot Cafe" (Chapter 12) by Park Sang-sun

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_**Chapter III: Hauntingly Hollow Holidays**_

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_Toumei no ame kawaita te wo atatameta kowagaranaideii?_  
_Chigireta kumo todokanai koe kokoniite fureteitaino_

_**/The transparent rain, the warmth of drying hands, is nothing to be afraid of right?**_  
_**Scattering clouds, a voice left unheard, painfully screams, "I'm right here!"/**_

-_**Kohaku no Yurikago**_ [Amber Cradle], sung by Yonekura Chihiro (Groove Adventure Rave ED1)

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The days passed slowly and without significant activity. By then, it had become routine for Chuck to sleep in Blair's room. Blair wasn't sure Harriet and Marion had noticed, but the caretakers made no mention or hint of being aware of Chuck and Blair's sleeping arrangement. It wasn't as if the two teens were doing anything more than just cuddling and sleeping on the same bed. No lecherous activities ever occurred between them; no groping, no heavy kissing, no sexual contact at all. Chuck would climb in bed with her, Blair would wrap an arm around him, and they would go to sleep and wake up to each other.

One morning, Blair woke up and found Chuck already awake, just gazing at her.

They would go to sleep with Chuck facing away and Blair holding him from behind. But in the morning after, Blair, always the one up before Chuck, would find their positions changed, the two of them face to face, similar to the situation Blair found herself in when she awoke on the day of Bart and Lily's nuptials. Instead of Blair's arm around him, Chuck would have his arm around her midsection, his face a few inches away from hers.

Blair was a bit surprised to see him awake before her, because he always woke up around noon. She just blinked at him as they stared at each other's faces.

A few seconds of silence passed, until Chuck leaned in closer and softly kissed her lips. "Good morning," He whispered as he pulled back slightly.

"Good morning indeed." Blair greeted back breathlessly. She craved more, but she didn't want to be too aggressive that she could drive him away.

"It's Christmas Eve." Chuck informed her.

"I know."

Chuck stared at her for a moment before turning to lie on his back.

"Bart didn't even spend Christmas with me last year."

Chuck had been in Monaco with Nate and Bart chose to be with Lily, Serena and Eric for that holiday, not even bothering to invite his own son to that particular gathering, hadn't even bothered to inform his only son that he was planning on remarrying. Chuck only learned about the proposal when he got back, and it had been from Serena.

And Nate... Nate probably accepted Chuck's invitation as means to get away from his family and their troubles, not because he wanted to accompany his best friend whose own father ditched him during the holiday for another family.

Blair shifted closer if possible, pressing herself to his side tightening her arm around his midsection while gently pressing her lips on his shoulder, hoping that the intimate proximity would soothe the bitterness of Chuck's reminiscence of Bart's absence.

"But this year, we're spending Christmas and New Year's together." She could think of nothing else to say, to let him know that this year, he wasn't alone during this family-centric holiday.

Chuck turned his head to look at her. "We don't have gifts to exchange."

Blair shrugged her shoulders. "It doesn't matter." And it really didn't. It didn't bother Blair at all that tomorrow, she wouldn't have a pile of presents to unwrap.

"I left my present for you in New York."

Blair perked up, but not wanting to appear too eager, she tried to casually lift herself up by leaning on an arm. "Well, since we won't be able to exchange gifts tonight, tell me what you bought me."

Unexpectedly and unintentionally on Blair's part, her question caused Chuck to grin and chuckle. The chuckle was low and brief, but Blair relished it, felt accomplished by being able to pluck that sound from him.

"Well?" Blair's zeal for gifts and low tolerance for surprises couldn't be subdued even in the current situation. "What did you buy me?"

Chuck shook his head in amusement. "Lingerie."

"La Perla or Victoria's Secret?"

"Agent Provocateur. Corset." Chuck smirked at her, and for that moment, Blair saw a glimpse of the Chuck she knew and loved.

Blair's eyebrows shot up as she felt herself flush. "Interesting..." she breathed out while averting her gaze, for lack of a better response. She didn't really know where this conversation was heading. If this were _before_, she knew just what they'd end up doing, because this interaction would be a pretense to salacious activities. But given the circumstances, Blair just didn't know where they stood. But then again, ever since the night at Victrola, Blair was never sure what their relationship were. They were more than friends (with or without benefits), but not quite lovers. Even though she had said the three words, eight letters, Chuck himself told her days earlier that she wasn't his girlfriend.

Chuck then looked away from her, his face becoming blank as he stared at the canopy of the bed. "I was going to tell you after the Snowflake Ball that I wanted to try a relationship with you."

Bitterly, Chuck realized that it had been Bart who always happened to sway him from being with Blair just when he was a step away from taking that risky leap into a romantic relationship. First Tuscany, then the Snowflake Ball.

"I was going to tell you by the end of the night that I wanted to exclusively date you, and then we can eventually work through dating until we can say... the three words, eight letters to each other."

Knowing what Chuck had intended to do, Blair couldn't help but let herself wonder what the two of them would be doing at this moment if Bart hadn't gotten into a car crash, and the night had gone as Chuck had planned. Chuck might just be at the Waldorf penthouse, sharing breakfast with her and her two sets of parents. Later on, they'd go to the ice rink, skating with Harold and Roman. But Bart's death had derailed that probable future that had now been rendered impossible in the wake of this tragedy.

Blair laid her head down on the pillow after Chuck's revelation. She was now lying sideways, just looking at his profile since he was on his back, avoiding looking at her directly.

"I can wait," Blair softly said after a while of silence, making Chuck turn sideways so their bodies were parallel to each other.

Chuck's eyes saddened. "You deserve better," he whispered.

"That's why I'm waiting," Blair laid a hand against his cheek, causing Chuck's eyes to flutter closed. "Because I deserve those three words, eight letters from you and no one else."

Chuck placed a hand on top of hers that was on his cheek. "I'm sorry I can't."

"I can wait." Blair reassured him. Because even though these destitute days seemed to stretch forever, Blair knew— hoped— that someday, Chuck would eventually heal; this grief would disappear like the melting snow, the sorrow would pass like the winter season. This was the winter solstice, when cold nights lasted longer than daylight, and the dreary season seemed never ending.

Blair just had to wait and have faith in a distant vernal dawn.

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"A merry Christmas morning to the two of you!" Harriet cheerfully greeted as Chuck and Blair together made their way to the dining table for breakfast.

"Good morning and merry Christmas," Blair returned as she took a seat beside Chuck who ignored the greeting.

"Nothing like eggnog to warm you up," Harriet poured the two teens a cup of warm eggnog and then putting pancakes of snowmen and candy canes on their plates. "Dig in, kids. Those are choco-chipped."

The elderly housekeeper's merry tinkle of laughter resounded as she served two separate plates of butter for Chuck and Blair and then placed the bottle of maple syrup in between the two.

"Marion's bringing in a tree later on, and then we can hang up the tree ornaments."

Blair put on a smile, also adding to Harriet's effort of bringing some cheer. "I love decorating trees."

"Why that's wonderful, dear! You can help me later. Now, why don't we start after breakfast, hmm? What do you say, Mr. Bass? We could use your height."

Blair knew Harriet was trying to make the mood jolly, but it was a struggle, and Blair could sense a slight uncertainty, a pull of hesitation in the elderly woman's attempt.

Chuck looked up from decapitating the snowman pancake on his plate. "I'll just be in my room."

It seemed Harriet's attempt was for nothing, as Chuck remained unmoved, unwilling to do anything than stay in his room.

Breakfast continued in silence. Through the corner of her eyes, Blair carefully watched Chuck pick at his pancakes while she carefully ate. He took two bites, but just pushed around the rest of the pancake tidbits he segregated with his fork.

"Here, put some butter and syrup. It tastes better." Blair decided to intrude his plate, spreading butter on his pancakes and then pouring syrup all over. She wanted to encourage Chuck to eat. He hadn't been eating much the past few days. He was considerably thinner, his fair complexion now seemed like a shade of emaciated pallor, his cheeks were sunken and he had dark bags under his eyes.

Blair pulled away and watched him stare at his pancakes. It took only a second for Blair to make her next move. She speared a piece of his pancake with her fork and held it to his lips. "Try it," Blair urged. If she had to spoon feed him just so he won't die of malnutrition, she'd do it. There wasn't much she could do, but whatever needed to be done to help him, Blair was willing to undertake that task. Chuck had no one else.

Chuck just stared at her, and then lowered his eyes to the proffered piece of pancake on her fork. Tentatively, he ate it, and Blair felt a whoop of achievement in her. "It's good, right?"

Chuck gave a nod while chewing slowly. Blair left her own fork on her plate and reached for his fork, which he held in his left. She forked another piece of pancake and held it to his lips again. She hoped he would take this one too. He did after swallowing. Blair held a third bite for him, but Chuck reached for her hand and took his own fork, eating the pancake on his own volition.

Blair never thought she'd feel accomplished with this kind of effort. Blair happily dug into her pancakes, feeling hunger settle in her. And this time, she didn't mind eating until satiated.

But that victory was short-lived. Chuck just took three more bites on his own before pushing back his chair. "I'm full."

Blair turned in her seat to see his retreating back. "But you're not finished—"

"I'll be in my room." Chuck walked up the stairs, leaving Blair at the table.

Suddenly, Blair felt her appetite dissipate with Chuck's exit. She pushed away her own plate, and rested her head in her hands.

'_You're so maternal with him,'_ Nate told her when they were both trying to hold up Chuck so he could get through his father's burial.

More than Nate, more than Serena, Blair had always felt like she had to take extra care of Chuck even if he was the more capable of holding out on his own and surviving in the city than the two blondes combined. Perhaps, because despite Chuck's proud gait and overconfident swagger, he had always looked lonely when his back was to her. Because Chuck had no one to really rely on, that by the end of the day, his heart was as empty as the lavish abode he lived in. Blair understood that loneliness and felt that same emptiness when she would finally get to her bedroom and realize no one really thought about her as soon as she left their sight.

Harriet's sigh permeated through Blair's thoughts. "Lord, remind us that patience is a virtue." Harriet sighed again then shook her head dejectedly. She approached Blair and rubbed the brunette's shoulders in comfort. "Soon, darlin'. Soon. It'll pass. You just have to be patient and persist in being there for him even when he's pushin' you away. When a person pushes someone away, it's not always because they don't want that person around. Ironically, they might even be silently beggin' not to be left alone."

Managing a small smile, Blair laid a hand upon Harriet's wrinkled hands in thanks. The elderly lady patted Blair's shoulders. "I'm going to town to do some grocery shopping for Christmas dinner. I'll be back later, and then we'll take down the Christmas decorations in the attic when the tree arrives."

Blair forced her lips to turn upwards and nodded her acknowledgement of the caretaker's words. Harriet then left Blair alone in the kitchen. It wasn't long before Blair heard the front door open and close. Blair sighed and decided to follow Chuck upstairs and persuade him to eat more even if she had to bitch about it as a sort of change in tactics.

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After breakfast, Chuck went straight to the bathroom for a quick shower. He was now in his boxers, standing in front of the mirror with a cheap razor in hand. A bottle of shaving cream was on the bathroom countertop, next to the left knob of the sink tap.

Chuck had never imagined just how onerous grief could be; it was not only confined to his heart but it extended even through his body. He had never felt this _tired_; every time he woke up, he felt as if he had been carrying heavy blocks of stone the whole night. His worst hangovers couldn't even compare. Everyday was like being in quicksand; he felt he would inevitably sink and succumb to a crushing force whether he stayed still or struggled.

However, despite the unusual weariness, every morning, Chuck still found it necessary to shave. It was one habit that he couldn't drop, even during these times. Shaving was a morning routine of Bart's that Chuck as a child would watch with fascination. Bart was rarely in the penthouse, away either in business trips or spending the night with women in one of his various hotels but never at the penthouse where Chuck resided with him.

As a child, the first thing Chuck did when he awoke was to check if his father had spent the night in their penthouse. And the rare times Bart did, Chuck always caught him the next morning in the bathroom, door slightly ajar, the older Bass, wearing only boxers, shaving in front of the mirror. _'I have to look well-kept, so I always try to look so, as should you,' _Bart told a young Chuck. _'If you want people to respect you at first glance and ensure that they do glance at you, always look well-kept and confident.' _It was the first life lesson Chuck would learn from his father, about appearance. That was the reason Chuck always endeavored to look stylish even when wasted.

The truth was, Chuck dressed to the nines to impress his father. Chuck dallied with as much beautiful women as he can bed to impress his father. Chuck drank liquor to impress his father. Chuck caused trouble to garner his father's attention.

It seemed that everything Chuck did had to do with Bart, as if the root of every exploit Chuck undertook, whether it was trouble or not, was Bart. So now that his father was gone, what the hell was he supposed to do in his life?

"Chuck?"

Chuck blinked, his sight refocusing in front of him. He saw Blair's reflection behind his as she gasped and ran inside the bathroom.

"Chuck!" Blair grabbed his wrist and pried open his fingers. "Oh my god, there's blood, you're bleeding..."

Chuck hadn't realized how hard he had been clenching his hand. He hadn't even known that he was gripping the head of the shaver, hadn't even felt the blade deeply cut into the skin of his palm.

Blanching, Blair took out the shaver in his hand and let it clatter in the sink, causing a few tiny splatters of blood to color the white porcelain.

"Uuhh," Blair's hand was shaking as she saw the dark red oozing from the cut. "You're _really_ bleeding... hold it under running water..." Blair turned the hot water knob and put his hand under the running water that washed away the collected blood. "I need a clean cloth," Her free hand opened the topmost drawer of the bathroom countertop and fished out a small hand towel. When his hand was pulled out from under the water, Blair swallowed and bit her lip as she saw the sliced skin starting to line with red.

Pressing the hand towel on the bleeding, Blair breathed deeply as she looked upwards, trying to get a grip on herself. She had always hated blood, and the deep cut with scarlet lining made Blair queasy and faint. At the height of her bulimia, the sight of blood in her vomit was what caused Blair to confess to her parents about her condition. Her fear of blood plus Chuck's insistence that Blair needed to get help urged her to take action. Chuck had walked her to her father's office door and stayed in the hallway in silent support as Blair requested. Serena at that time was too indulged in partying, drinking and drugs, and dating guys to notice anything amiss with Blair, and only learned about the bulimia when Blair turned down a shopping spree with her because of an appointment with Dr. Sherman. Nate had been kept in the dark, as Blair had begged Serena and Chuck not to clue him in on anything.

Chuck just stayed still and silent as Blair fretted over his wound. The apology was right there at his throat, but he couldn't voice it; instead, he went along with Blair as she pulled him downstairs to get the first-aid kit in the medical cabinet located in the kitchen because, as Misty reasoned before, that's the most accident-prone area in the house.

Blair was only able to breathe with calm after the wound had been disinfected and hidden away under gauze.

"You shouldn't do that."

Chuck just stared blankly at her straight face. "I didn't notice it."

Blair crossed her arms and eyed him. Chuck just turned around and headed out of the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Blair's footsteps could be heard behind Chuck who was just dragging his feet through the floor.

"To my room. I hate having stubble." Because Chuck never saw his father sporting a stubble. "You intend on watching me while I shave to make sure no further accidents happen?"

Blair didn't answer, but she did follow him to his room. Chuck didn't pay her any attention, even when she sat on the foot of the bed, warily watching him through the open bathroom door as he went through grooming himself. When he got out of the bathroom to dress, Blair flushed in embarrassment as she looked away, realizing just now that he was only in his boxers while he pulled out clothes for the day.

"You've seen me less covered before, Blair."

Blair blubbered, still looking away. "W-well... it's inappropriate... as of... now..."

Chuck slipped his head past the collar of the cotton shirt he paired with plain cotton pajamas. He only wore silk for sleepwear, but he hadn't cared much about clothes nowadays when he wasn't even going out of the house.

With a sigh, Chuck plopped back into bed, pulling the covers over his head to block out the daylight.

Blair turned her torso to look back at the lump on the bed. "Don't tell me you're going back to sleep."

"There's nothing to do in this place."

"That's because you don't really _do_ anything else—"

"Because I'm tired, Blair!" Chuck suddenly shouted out as he flung the covers off his torso. "I'm fucking _tired_!" Chuck took deep breaths while the bottom of his palms dug into his eyes.

"I can't drink in this place, because I don't want to disrespect Aunt Misty's memory. Same goes with a line of coke or a joint," Chuck huffed irately as he slammed his arms to his sides, the mattress absorbing the force of his frustration.

If being in this place was any good, it was because it confined Chuck and kept him off his destructive tendencies, acting like a restraining rehab. Chuck was reverent to the pristine atmosphere of this place, just as he honored the memory of his mother, though he had never known her embrace, and his aunt, whom he had only been acquainted with for a short summer.

"And I can't very well go to a bar, because it's winter and I hate going out in the fucking cold."

The three of them had always joked about how Chuck seemed to hibernate during winter, the only time he'd prefer being cooped inside, refusing to go out of the warmth of his residence unless necessary. And when Bart deemed him old enough to be able to undertake traveling overseas alone, Chuck "migrated", as Blair put it, to the tropics during winter break. Misty told them that Evelyn hated winter and snow as well, and had always wished to live somewhere sunny all year round.

"Go do something else if you're bored, because I want some goddamn sleep."

Blair bit the inside of her lower lip, nodding her head slowly in weary exasperation. "Okay, Chuck. Okay."

Chuck had flung the covers over him once again, so he didn't see Blair. He only felt the movement of the mattress as she stood and heard the slight rustling of feet on the floor as she exited.

Chuck closed his eyes, his breathing even. However, after some time with his eyes closed, he could not fall back to sleep. It had been so easy for him, but now trepidation caused him restlessness. He sat up, pulling back the bedcovers. He looked out the open door of his bedroom. He got out of bed and tentatively stuck his head out his room. He looked sideways, but found the corridor empty.

Blair's bedroom door was closed, so he walked across to stand just outside. He raised his hand and curled it, just holding it out in the air for a while as hesitance halted him. But after taking a deep breath, he softly knocked. "Blair?"

No answer. He knocked again. Still no answer. He finally opened the door and peeked inside. The uninhabited room made him apprehensive. His heart pounding in his ear, he turned and hurried downstairs.

"Blair?" He waited for a sound. None. "Blair." He walked around: to the living room, the kitchen, the dining room, foyer. No one was there.

"Blair? Blair? Blair!" Chuck called out louder, desperation unknowingly seeping into his tone. He rushed upstairs again, and this time, he was going to look through every room. He burst through the door of the nearest room, feeling frustration when he saw it vacant. He did the same to two other rooms, until a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Chuck?"

Chuck turned to see Blair, a box in her arms, standing in the hallway, looking confusedly at him.

"Were you calling me? I wasn't sure if you were looking for me. I couldn't really hear you."

Chuck felt something clog in his throat at the sight of her, wondering if her standing before him was an apparition like his father. "... I... I thought you'd left."

"I was just in the attic." Blair put down the box on the floor. "I thought I'd take out the Christmas decorations before Harriet and Marion get back." Blair's eyes blinked quickly in confusion and curiosity as she moved closer to him. "What's wrong?"

Earlier, the thought that Blair was gone caused a panic to rise in him. And now, to see her in front of him, an overwhelming relief washed over him, like a breath of air after drowning. He swallowed thickly, trying to find the words in him.

"I-I was afraid... you'd left."

Blair stared intently into his eyes, taking slow steps towards him. "I was here all this time." _Even when you couldn't see me, refused to acknowledge me. _She hadn't gone anywhere.

In slow movements, Chuck wrapped his arms around Blair's shoulders and buried his face in her brown curls, his eyes closing as he sighed in comfort at feeling the certain softness of her skin. "I thought you had gone far away."

Blair wound her arms around his torso, reciprocating the unexpected embrace. "You silly boy," Blair chuckled slightly, trying to appear lighthearted; she also closed her eyes as she felt tears prick her eyes. "Where am I going to go?" She dug her fingers into the material of his shirt, as if afraid he would drift away. "I don't want to be anywhere else."

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The Christmas Eve dinner had not gone smoothly; not horribly though, but definitely not festive. Harriet had cooked up a sumptuous meal, and she and Marion ate with Chuck and Blair. Table conversation was a bit awkward; Harriet and Marion provided polite chatter, which Blair, through years of social etiquette training, had been inclined to join. On the other hand, Chuck was curt in his responses.

After dinner, Chuck and Blair were caught off guard when the couple presented them with gifts. That particular Christmas tradition had eluded Blair, as she had been beside herself with worry and watchfulness over Chuck's condition. She apologized for not having anything to give to the couple, and accepted the gift (a collection of pretty barrettes and hair clips) with a polite smile and thanks.

Chuck accepted his present with a bitter laugh and a shake of his head. He only had this comment: "I can't remember the last time I received a present I actually had to unwrap. My dad always just called to inform me he'd already transferred extra money to my account all for me to spend on whatever I want." Chuckling darkly, he then stood, bid goodnight and even complimented the meal before sauntering off for bed. He didn't even open his gift.

Harriet and Marion assured Blair that it was alright; they didn't take any offense. They bid Blair a good night and Merry Christmas, urging her to head on up after Chuck while they take care of cleaning and locking up for the night.

Before Blair retired to her room, she snuck a peek at Chuck's room, checking up on him. His back was to her, but it was clear that he was sleeping. Dejectedly, Blair sighed and whispered a Merry Christmas to him before she went back to her own room to sleep alone. She had hoped Chuck would sleep next to her, in hopes that they would find a bit of solace in each other during this lonely holiday.

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On Christmas, Harriet and Marion weren't in the main house; they had gone to visit their daughter and her family for the whole day. Harriet had left them food in the refrigerator and they only needed to heat it on the stove or in the microwave.

Chuck was never an early riser, but early that morning, Chuck found his sleep disturbed again and again as he would wake up from time to time, like he was being shaken awake by his distress. Disturbances poked him as if telling him to get up, that he had no right to sleep through his grief. Furiously, Chuck threw the covers to the side and sat up at the side of the bed, his bare feet on the floor.

"Shut up. _Shut. Up_." Chuck hissed through clenched teeth as he pressed his palms over his temples. "Are you always going to blame me for everything wrong that happens in your life?"

Chuck's head was bowed, but he could still see the shiny black leather shoes and dark blue slacks in front of him. He could hear the familiar deep voice, cold and condescending in its bluntness, reply to him, a ghostly accusatory whisper that had been haunting Chuck since his first visit to the morgue.

"It's not my fault... It's not my fault!"

''_We both know you're the cause of it all...' _was the ghostly reply.

The next thing Chuck knew, he had grabbed the lamp on the side table next to the bed and threw it against the wall. Overcome with a surge of vigor that he had not felt since his father's death, Chuck proceeded to wreck the room. Anything he could grab, he threw on the wall, hitting some hanging paintings and causing a few dents. He overturned the sidetables, he pulled out the drawers of the dresser and threw them against the wall with force. Finding a quaint wooden sculpture (it had previously sat on a bedside table) on the floor, he threw it towards the mirror on top of the dresser. He panted from fury and exertion, and he proceeded to rip the covers of the bed and overturn the mattress.

The ruckus he was making must've awakened Blair, who, shocked in silence, stood stationary at the door. Her shoulders jumped at every loud crash but she never made a sound or an attempt to stop Chuck's rampage as her eyes followed his movement.

He wasn't aware of the tear streaks on his face until he had slumped on the floor, absolutely drained in body and soul. But still, there was an internal maelstrom in him that devastated and destroyed from the inside, and no matter how he moved, it could not be released.

And when he couldn't demolish anything else in the room, Chuck screamed. He lurched forward, his arms crossing over as he clutched his abdomen. His shouts were loud and echoing, powered from the diaphragm, from the very pit of his stomach, as if he was being gutted alive. When his lungs had expended all the air, he would draw in a deep breath and resume yelling as if the tears that sprang from his eyes instigated too much pain.

He felt like he was being clawed from within, innards being ripped savagely, and then slowly being skinned as he felt his throat become sore. He fell to his knees. He did not know how long he had gone on, but eventually, he suddenly found himself worn out, his screams broken down to hysterical sobs. He slammed his hands on the floor, fingers clawing at the polished wood.

Blair, who had stood by it all, witnessed his breaking, then felt her feet move towards him, her pace wobbly and slow. Seeing Chuck unravel in his grief shook her to the core. If Chuck were drunk or high, she'd make sure he made it to his suite, even accompany him to the bathroom while he vomited. If Chuck were with women, she'd shoo them away and drag him out. Those petty, troublesome circumstances, she could handle. But this, Blair did not know how to handle Chuck like this, and her heart ached and reached out for him.

Chuck was still sobbing, head bowed, his hair veiling his eyes. Between his hands, Blair could see the teardrops coalescing together on the hardwood floor. Tentatively, Blair knelt in front of him, but Chuck did not notice her, still imbibed in his lachrymal agony.

Blair lifted her arms, hands trembling. It hovered in the air, unsure of how to make contact. Chuck's shoulder blades jutted out, and she put her hands on top of it. When Chuck did not move, Blair knelt in front of him and dared to embrace him. Her arms laid on the back of his shoulder, her forehead pressed to his nape, her body blanketing him. She felt him trembling, his breath hitching violently causing his back to rise and fall.

"I'm... I'm right here, Chuck. I'm right here," the tears fell down her cheeks, blurring her eyesight just a bit. "I won't... leave you..." Her voice was starting to get muffled from trying to suppress the sobs that racked her throat. She felt his anguish reverberate through her, echo in the stillness of her very being that for a moment, she was both intimidated and awed by the intensity of her attachment to Chuck, how their very heartbeats might be in synch not just in pulse, like a thread tied them together, and a single pluck of the cord could be strongly felt by both ends.

When Chuck's shaking shoulders had subsided, Blair pulled away. She reached out and gently held his face, her dainty hands cupping his cheeks, and forced him to look at her directly. She pursed her lips, an effort to halt the impending tears. Looking straight into his eyes until their gazes locked and he was unable to shift his line of sight anywhere.

"He's dead. He's dead, Blair. My dad's dead." Chuck scrunched his eyes shut, his grief etched as the lines on his forehead created by his furrowed brows. Strands of his long bangs stuck to the wet tear trails on his face. "He's dead and I hate him, just as much as he hates me for killing my mom and for ruining his marriage to Lily."

Blair shook her head to refute him. "You can't know that for sure—"

"I can hear him! He's always... always... just behind me, _whispering_ in my ear!" That was the closest Chuck would admit that he's been having momentary hallucinations of his father. "He blames me just as much as Lily blames me!"

Blair frowned. "What did Lily tell you...?"

Chuck's face scrunched in defiance, holding back the possible display of tears he would be embarrassed of. "She told me herself... if I'd just stayed out of it... He wouldn't have gotten in that car accident." Chuck stubbornly wiped away at the falling tears on his face. "It's true. I wish I hadn't called him to tell him to fight for Lily."

Blair shook her head vehemently. "No."

"First I kill my Mom, then my Dad—"

"Stop!" Blair shouted, and in an effort to pull him out of this innate despair that was slowly sucking him in, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. He was right there in front of her, but she felt as if she were losing him, inch by inch everyday. "Stop blaming yourself for things out of your control!"

Chuck was immobile as Blair sobbed, filling the silence that suddenly came with her tearful outburst. "Stop it. I love you. Don't do this to yourself because you're doing this to me too."

Blair held up a hand to cup his face once again. She tried to push back the hair on his face so she could try to see what he was feeling, try to read him, but he turned his cheek to reject her hands.

"I can't lose anyone important to me anymore. I just can't."

Unsteadily, Chuck got back on his feet. His matted hair was like vines clinging to his face, veiling most of his face from Blair.

"You shouldn't have come with me."

Blair now frowned in confusion as she stood, eyes darting from side to side as she tried to inspect him, understand him. "What, what do you mean? I don't understand—"

Just then, Chuck grabbed her wrist and started to drag her out of the room.

"You should get out, get away from me."

Blair took a step back, trying to pull out her hand from his grip.

"It was a mistake to come with me."

'_But I am me. And you are you.'_ If there was one trait about Blair Waldorf that always made an impression, it was her persistence, her stubbornness. No one kicks her out, she walks out. Even though it hurt her that Chuck was basically kicking her out, she knew him better than anyone, and she could see that he was doing this because he was scared, not because he didn't want her there anymore, not because he didn't need her.

"Chuck—" Blair dug her heels on the floor, trying to impede the force of Chuck's pull.

"Don't you understand? You shouldn't waste anything on me anymore—" Chuck persisted in pulling her even when she defied his efforts by bending her upper body and trying to take a step back, her free hand holding on to his wrist.

'_... that in the face of true love, you don't just give up. Even if the object of your affection is begging you to.'_ Blair could remember that moment with clarity, could still feel the pennate palpitation that wedding toast inspired in her chest even in reminiscence. She was not going to give in, even though he was telling her to give up on him because he had given up on himself.

"No—" Blair was still fighting him, but Chuck insisted on pulling her out, even if he couldn't move her.

"It's no use, Blair. There's no use in saving me."

'_...the worst thing you've ever done, the darkest thought you've ever had, I will stand by you through anything.' _It was not a promise, it was a certainty. When Blair gives her word, she never forgets it. When she gives her loyalty, it will never cease. Either she'll save him, or they both sink. Better together in suffering than alone in regret.

"It's better you leave now before you thoroughly realize you regret this and abandon me like everyone else."

With a renewed determination, Blair dropped to her knees in a sitting position, anchoring herself on the floor. In a bold move, she held on to one of his legs, and then elbowed the back of his knee. As a result, Chuck stumbled on the floor. Immediately, Blair scrambled on top of him, then raised her hand and slapped him hard on the cheek. "Snap out of it!"

The smack stunned Chuck. His turned his head so he could face her, his eyes wide and incredulous as Blair, her hair disheveled, straddled him, taking shaky gulps of air.

"You don't want me to leave you, then _stop running away from me_!" Blair's tears dripped on his face. "Stop pushing me away, and let me help you!"

She had come to face a wall. Chuck was hiding in a tower with no doors, and Blair could only go so far as to the foot of that tower. She could shout and pound on the granite walls, but she could not do anything else unless he looked out the window and give her a way in.

The frustration and helplessness overwhelmed her to this point. Blair felt as if this moment, Chuck's breakdown, would be the pivotal event that could either push him to retreat or crack. She had done all she could, the next step was now up to Chuck if he would accept her or reject her.

Chuck's face was turned to the side by the force of her slap, and he had yet to lift his face. His bangs curtained his eyes. Slowly, he redirected his face forward, eyes to the ceiling.

Blair breathed heavily, straddling him, watching his next move.

Slowly, Chuck's right arm rose and rested over his eyes. "I don't know what the hell I should do now. I don't know where to go."

His voice broke, and Blair saw a few tears trail down from Chuck's temple to disappear in his dark tresses.

Chuck was tired, and right now, whether Blair's stubbornness was a blessing or a nuisance, he didn't care. He had reached his breaking point, his most vulnerable. He felt like his chest was now cut open, as if the grueling agony from before that scratched from within had finally forced itself out to reveal everything from the inside.

"I'm alone, Blair. I've got no family anymore, and I don't know what to do. I don't have anyone anymore."

Blair sadly looked down on him. She rested her forehead on his forearm, and their breaths pushed against each other. She felt drained too, and vulnerable.

"I'm family." Blair closed her eyes, her hands on his chest. "So is Nate. So is Serena. We're the Non-Judging Breakfast Club. We're a family all on our own. That was our pact, remember?"

They were eleven and the four of them had snuck out for an overnight stay, Blair giving the excuse that she was staying with just Serena and Eric, Serena saying she was going to be sleeping over at Blair's, Nate claiming he was staying over at Chuck's, while Chuck booked them a suite at one of his father's hotels. That was the first time they all tried drinking alcohol with no limits, sampling every liquor bottle they ordered. And in the midst of their drunken merriment and emotional, personal exposures, Serena proposed a toast, asked for a group name; Nate saw the ignored movie (chosen by Blair) playing on the TV and suggested the movie name; Chuck added the adjective non-judging.

"To the Non-Judging Breakfast Club!" Serena started, as she wobbled, urging the three others to stand, who got up on their feet despite being tipsy.

"Two pairs of best friends!" Nate laughed out loud as he and Chuck had their arms around the other's shoulders, and knocked together their tumblers.

"Sisters!" Serena wrapped her arms around Blair's neck and kissed her on the cheek.

"Because friends are the family we choose for ourselves," **[1]** Blair quoted as she raised her champagne glass.

"And friends are God's way of apologizing to us for our families." **[2] **Chuck concluded, before all four clinked their glasses up high, like the rapiers of the four musketeers crossed in unity above them. That night, an unspoken pact bound the foursome, and they had banded together through all the craziness, the lows, and the doldrums.

"You say you're alone, but you're not. You just can't see us through your grief. Me, Nate, Serena, even Eric. But you're pushing us away. If you leave us behind to run somewhere we can't follow you, then you really will be alone."

Blair raised her left hand to hold the hand hanging over Chuck's temple, their palms against each other, the image likened to leaning on reflection. "I ran with you. I'm here. Trust me. Lean on me. Cry on me." Her eyes closed as she took a deep breath, before moving away the arm that covered his eyes, tendrils of his long bangs sticking to his tear-streaked face. She laid their joined hands on the floor. "Don't shut me out."

Chuck's chest visibly rose and fell as more than their eyes connected at that moment. Then, Chuck's free hand carefully crept up Blair's back, and pressed her down. Blair lowered herself on top of Chuck, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Chuck's arm came around her nape to tightly hold her close, fisting a portion of her shirt, while Blair's free hand dug underneath to grip the shoulder of his embracing arm.

Once more, Chuck was wracked with sobs. But this time, it felt as if the tears were ebbing away, chipping away some of the constricting pain in his chest.

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Blair leaned against the headboard, pillows cushioning her back to make her position more comfortable. Chuck's head was resting on her abdomen, his arms around her waist. He was deeply breathing evenly, sleeping peacefully. Blair had an arm upon his shoulder while her other hand raked through his dark tresses in a gentle manner that Blair hoped relaxed Chuck.

Chuck had calmed down and fallen asleep some time ago. On her bed, he was now cuddled at her side, holding her to him as one would hug a stuffed toy for comfort during a storm.

Blair tried hard not to sob, in an effort to not disturb Chuck. He hadn't been sleeping well despite the long hours of slumber and naps, Blair could tell. But even though she was able to regulate her breathing, as for tears, she couldn't help but let it out. The tears ran down her cheeks, and she tried to muffle her sniffles as much as possible.

Why did loving someone so deeply have to be such a painful ordeal?

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Chuck now slept in Blair's room instead of moving to a spare bedroom. After the devastation of his room, Marion and Harriet tried to straighten it but the room had been severely trashed. The only good that came out after the clean-up was that all the destroyed furniture had been taken out. Only the bed frame remained intact along with the mattress.

Chuck never spoke about his outburst; Blair never confronted him about it. Chuck was not the verbal type; he showed his true feelings through actions, meaningful gestures. Just by sleeping next to her and holding her in his arms every night, showed Blair that he needed her and he wasn't fighting this need. He also hadn't had a cruel thing to say to her, and accepted her efforts of taking care of him, whether it's telling him to eat or getting him to accompany her for a stroll around the estate, even holding her hand.

On December 31st, they didn't do anything celebratory to welcome the New Year. Just another special dinner; they didn't even stay up to count down to midnight. Blair insisted that Marion and Harriet go to town to watch the fireworks instead of staying in with the two teens. Chuck and Blair headed off to bed early, Chuck sleeping next to Blair as he had been doing since his outburst. He held Blair as he slept. Blair felt it was more for his sake, that it comforted him. She was grateful that Chuck was finally accepting the fact that he needed someone during this difficult time.

That night, Blair found herself slowly awakening through the fog of somnolence with the feel of feathery touches over her face, her neck, her arms. She slowly became aware, her mind on the verge of consciousness yet not quite there. When her lips felt the gentles press of a kiss, she sighed, now a bit more attentive behind her closed eyelids. What really woke her though was the heavy press of an added weight on top of her. She opened her eyes, and even before her sight could adjust to the darkness, a much more firm kiss sealed her mouth. Though she could only discern a silhouette in the darkness, she knew it was Chuck. He parted their kiss, but his lips still hovered on hers, so close that their warm exhales enmeshed while their inhales seamed together.

"Blair," Chuck lowly spoke, Blair feeling the movement of his lips against her own. "I need you..."

She could already feel his hands on her thighs, his fingertips on the hem of the nightdress she wore; he was already settled in between her thighs. She answered by protruding her plump lips to give him a gentle but encouraging kiss. He then kissed her hungrily while his hands lifted her nightdress up to her stomach. Blair wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled down his pajama bottoms. With her hand, Blair guided his manhood to her sex while Chuck pushed aside the crotch of her underwear. He entered her swiftly, and Blair stifled a whimper. Chuck set the pace, rapidly plunging in and out of her. To prevent herself from crying out from the pain, Blair focused on breathing in from the nose and exhaling through the mouth. She stayed still while Chuck moved above her. His entry sent tinges of pain through her unprepared body; she dug her heels into the mattress while she tightly held on to his neck, trying to not mind the sting that came with his thrusts. Blair shut her eyes tightly and bit her lower lip, trying to refrain from whimpering as Chuck continued.

Chuck's panting was strained, sounding as if he were running a marathon. If Blair hadn't been concentrated on reining any noise from herself, she'd have noticed that the sound of Chuck's breathing was not sexual at all.

"I'm sorry," Chuck suddenly gasped out as he stilled, resting his forehead on the crook of Blair's neck.

Blair realized, he hadn't found that release he had been seeking.

"I'm sorry."

Whether he was apologizing for not performing or, if he was aware, for the painful coupling, Blair only shushed him. She reached up a hand, lightly stroking the back of his head, not making a move to dislodge him as his weight rested on her. "It's alright. There's nothing to forgive." And really, for Blair, there was no transgression done tonight. She had given herself willingly when she was needed.

"I'm really sorry..."

"Shh. It's okay, it's okay."

"I'm really sorry..."

In a sudden move, Blair flipped them over so she was on top of him, straddling his hips. She leaned down and softly kissed him. With her back straight and firm as she rose, Blair reached for the thin straps and slowly lowered it off her arms to let the negligee collect at her waist, revealing her nude torso.

"Blair—" Uncertainty filled Chuck's voice, now unsure if they should proceed even if he had initiated it.

"Shhh," Blair kissed him on the lips, interrupting his thoughts and his voice. "Let me take care of you."

Blair hovered a hand over his eyes, prompting him to close his eyelids. Chuck obliged, and his hands settled on Blair's waist. Propping herself on her elbows, Blair's hair created a curtain around their faces. She peppered feathery kisses along his face, occasionally on his lips. Chuck sighed as he gingerly returned Blair's kisses on his lips. One last kiss, and Blair lifted herself and began rocking her hips in slow, circular motions while her hand pressed her clit.

With eyes still closed, Chuck moaned, feeling the familiar stirring of intimate desire. He bit his lower lips, his hands running up and down Blair's thighs while her free hand rested on his chest. Feeling himself near the edge, Chuck's eyes opened and he rose up, wrapping an arm around Blair's waist while his other hand cupped her nape as he gave her a searing kiss, his tongue plumbing inside her mouth. On the other hand, Blair had an arm around Chuck's neck while her other arm was wrapped around his torso, her fingertips grazing along his back as she kissed him back with fervor. Chuck found her clit and expertly maneuvered the nub to instigate more pleasure.

Blair gasped as Chuck moved his hips in sync with hers. In a harmonious rhythm that pushed against each other, they came together, their cries of pleasure muffled by their mouths conjoined in a kiss. Only their lips broke apart— but only for an inch— when they felt the high from their climaxes subsiding, and they panted for air. Blair's forehead rested against Chuck, her eyes closing as she breathed deeply along with him, their breaths coupled like their bodies.

A still calmness enveloped them, and Chuck reveled in the warmth of Blair's proximity. Chuck sighed in serene contentment as he raised his hand and cupped Blair's cheek, his thumb caressing the velvet skin. He remembered why Blair was different from all the numerous people he had had sex with. Beyond the conjoined limbs, beneath the flesh, something bound them together, unseen yet unbreakable, elusive yet enduring. For the first time, he succumbed to the weariness his grief had imposed upon him, and he leaned on Blair, letting her comfort him with complete trust.

Blair pressed a kiss against his lips and also placed a hand on his cheek. "Are you okay?" She asked softly.

Chuck once again sighed in tranquil submission. "I am now," he answered as he nuzzled her nose, holding her ever closer to him. "I think I will be."

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Three days into the New Year, Chuck was faring well, better than when they arrived. There was still a lingering sadness that hovered with him; Blair could feel it palpitate in his presence, especially in the solemnity of his silence, bittersweet and brooding.

Perhaps his previous breakdown and soul-bearing confession had worn him, drained him of energy and feeling. Blair had been afraid that he would suddenly turn spiteful once again, like he had been towards her on the day of Bart's burial. Instead, Chuck had been nothing but courteous. He would talk to them (albeit only when he was spoken to; he never initiated conversation), he did not lash out, in fact he never did anything out of line, no emotional outbursts of any sort.

Blair wondered if this passivity was a prelude to running away, if perhaps he was contemplating relocating some place else to nurse his grief, but without her this time. This incessant trepidation troubled her and churned unease in her heart. Even now that he had told her he loved her, she did not feel reassured at all that she would not be left behind. How many people she loved had told her they loved her and then left her? Serena, her father, her mother, and even Nate. They had left her at some point.

Blair wondered if the calm of these days were illusory, if it were meant to weave a beautiful memory in preparation for the aftermath of desertion. If it were an illusion, she wished it would never shatter into sharp shards that would only cut through them when reality came crashing in.

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For no apparent reason, Blair awoke in the middle of the night to feel the space beside her empty. Almost immediately, she felt her heart thud in nervousness, wondering if the dreaded moment of abandonment had finally come. But despite the alarm ringing in her mind, Blair calmed herself and refused to jump to pessimistic conclusions. Pulling off the coverlet of the bed, she wrapped it around her, fisting the edges and pulled it together to the middle of her chest. Blair then left her room to check Chuck's assigned bedroom across from hers, and felt tears threaten her when she saw his room as empty as her bed. She dashed down the flight of stairs, the coverlet fluttering like a cape on her back as she was intent on rushing outside and perhaps in futile shout out his name in the snowy darkness.

The glow on the hardwood floor stopped Blair in her tracks. The hearth was lit, bathing the living room in dim yellow light from the fire. Blair's bare feet barely made noise as she slowly sauntered into the living room and approached the side of a wingback chair, relief washing away her fears at seeing Chuck sitting regally yet solemnly, the flames reflected in his dark eyes.

Chuck turned his head to her, just gazing at her without so much as a question of what she was doing out of bed in that ungodly hour. For a brief moment, the two did not move, just silently regarding each other's presences, until Blair made the first movement. She took off the coverlet she had wound around her body for warmth and draped it over Chuck, before she climbed into the wingback chair which was wide enough to accommodate another. She didn't exactly sit on his lap; her bum was settled over the sparse space between him and the armrest with her legs bridging over his thighs. Chuck's arms came out and circled her waist. Blair snuggled closer to him, her forehead in the nook of his neck.

But still neither spoke a word nor tried to initiate conversation, just reveling in the quiet stillness of the moment when they found themselves comfortable in their position.

"I thought you left me."

"I was just down here."

"I'm glad you are." Blair whispered, and silence once again came over them.

"Stand up," he later nudged her, and she dislodged herself from him. Chuck pushed the comforter to the side and tugged at her hand, prompting her to return to her previous position. When Blair was settled, Chuck covered the two of them with the bedspread.

"To tell the truth, I don't think I can go anywhere away from you anymore." Chuck shifted her so he could look straight into her eyes, the glow of the fire reflected in his dark brown orbs, his hands cupping her face as she held on to his wrists. "I love you."

It was the affirmation she needed, that he could not run away from her, that he was bound to her like she was intermittently bound to him.

"Thank you," Blair lifted her head to look at his profile. Chuck then slightly shifted his head so he could direct his eyes to her. He lifted his hand to brush away her hair on her face before twirling a lock of brown curls around his finger. And then, tresses loosely curled around his index finger, he laid his hand on her cheek and chastely kissed her lips. He did not attempt to deepen it with his tongue, nor did he prolong it with softly caressing lips. It was a simple press of the lips, but nonetheless, it made Blair feel the flapping of butterfly wings as her eyes fluttered closed.

"I love you too, Chuck."

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Slowly awakening, Chuck opened his eyes to the sight of Blair peacefully slumbering, his arm around her bare waist. He placed a gentle kiss on her cheek and then her lips before he sat up and rose from the bed, heading to the bathroom. The sound of water running indicated to a newly risen Blair that he was preparing the bath. He came out not long after with a towel wrapped around his waist, covering his lower area.

He leaned down to greet her with a kiss. "Good morning, beautiful." His smile was almost shy.

"Good morning." Blair smiled back at him.

Chuck held out his hand to her. "Come on." He nodded towards the bathroom. Blair sat up on her elbows, the comforter covering her chest, and smiled shyly before accepting his proffered hand. He lifted her up and out of the bed, and when Blair was on her feet, he held out a bathrobe for her to slip in, something she hadn't noticed was hanging on his arm previously since her attention had been preoccupied with the sight of his bare chest.

He took her hand and led her to the bathroom, just in time, as the tub was about to be filled. Chuck let go of her hand to turn off the tap before walking back to her and stopping behind her. Understanding what he wanted to do, Blair undid the tie of her robe as Chuck reached for the lapels, sliding the fluffy cotton material over her shoulders. When he had gotten her out of the robe, Blair turned around and took his hands, tugging at him. He took a few steps and halted when he was just by the side of the tub. This time, Blair positioned herself behind him, her arms coming around his midsection. She laid a soft kiss on his shoulder blade before she loosened the towel he had around his hips, letting it land on their feet, the towel joining the robe on the tiled floor.

Blair got in the tub first, helped by Chuck before he settled in front of her, his back to her. Blair wrapped her arms around his shoulders and prompted him to lean back on her chest as her back was supported by the porcelain. Chuck's legs stretched out in front of him, whereas Blair's legs were bent and pressed to the sides of the tub, her knees above the water as she accommodated Chuck.

Chuck sighed in contentment as he laid in Blair's arms. His cheek rested on her left upper arm, and her right hand was on the left of his chest, gently massaging circles on the area just atop his heart while her other hand, from time to time, would cup a small amount of water and splash it on his chest.

"Can you say it again?" Blair requested, her voice in a whisper as she placed a kiss on his bared neck.

"I love you." Eyes still closed, Chuck reached for her hand over his heart and brought it to his lips. "I love you." A kiss to her knuckles. "I love you."

With her mouth pressed to his shoulder, Blair giggled like a schoolgirl with a crush. "Nothing will ever top that Christmas present."

And it was true. This year, Blair was away from family and friends; she did not receive tons of expensive gifts; she did not have an elaborate Christmas feast; she did not have a designer outfit for the holiday. She did not have the high-end holiday celebration that she was accustomed to, but this was enough; she wouldn't rather be anywhere. She never thought that three words, eight letters would be better than any jewelry, clothes or shoes she could receive, when she was so accustomed to having those luxuries as substitute for love and attention.

Chuck felt himself chuckle softly as he kissed her hand once again before he slipped his digits over the gap between her fingers, their fingers enclosed on each other.

"Even a buy-all-you-want spree at Tiffany's?"

Blair shook her head, her chin brushing his shoulder. "I don't even have Tiffany's or Cartier's, or Chanel or Valentino in my mind."

Blair kissed a patch of skin behind his ear, and then lifted her left hand to brush through his hair. "Your hair's getting longer than you usually let it."

Chuck shrugged. "I don't really mind."

Blair didn't have anything to say about the trivial matter, so she just pressed her lips to his shoulder again, loving the feel of their skin in contact.

"What would you do if I was cursed?"

Blair frowned in puzzlement at the seemingly random question. "What do you mean?"

Chuck stares blankly at the tiled wall ahead. "I feel like I'm cursed to cause the deaths of those I love unconditionally."

Blair rested her face against his temple. "You're not at fault for killing your parents."

"If I were cursed to kill those I love, would you still love me?"

"I think the question is, would _you_ let yourself love me despite knowing you might lose me someday?"

Chuck sat up and turned his head to face Blair. "Would you?"

Blair nodded her affirmation with a smile. "I think I would. I _would_. Didn't I finally tell you I love you just when I was surely about to lose you?"

Chuck stared at her for a moment before he changed his position; he was now sitting in front of her, his back leaning against the head of the tub opposite Blair.

"And besides," Blair grinned, "I don't think you'll be the cause of Nate's demise. His cluelessness will do that for him."

Chuck let out a chuckle of amusement. Surprisingly, he found the bit of death jest amusing instead of gruesome. The small peal of laughter on his part seemed to make Blair smile even more, and she chuckled as well.

"That's the first true laugh I've gotten out of you in a while," Blair confessed lightheartedly as she rested her elbow on the side of the tub, resting her cheek on a fist. The bruise around her wrist caught Chuck's attention, the faint yellow discoloration standing out on the fair skin. The smiling curve of Chuck's lips vanished. Blair followed his gaze, distancing her arm from her cheek to inspect the sight that had distracted him when she noticed the guilt in his brown orbs. Gingerly, Chuck reached out for her hand and brought her bruised wrist to his lips, softly laying five kisses on the bruise before placing his cheek against the bruise.

"I'm sorry..." Chuck whispered, his tone clearly contrite as his eyes closed, his eyebrows arched in repentance.

Never had he apologized so much in his life except for the past few days. He had done a lot of wrong and hurtful things deliberately, and he had always stood by what he'd done, never apologizing.

Whether it was out of selfless concern for her or whether it was the fear of being left behind, he had to ask, one more time, just for a little bit more reassurance.

"Are you sure? About me, are you sure?"

And it was like being in the back of his limo that night, his uncertainty of her certainty.

"I've known for a long time, even if I tried to deny it, tried not to make it fact by never saying it out loud."

He looked down, dejected and unsure of himself. He did not believe in himself as much as she did, did not have faith in his capabilities as much as she did. "I want you to be happy."

Blair cupped his cheek with the hand he was holding, the wrist he had bruised when he tried to drag her out. "Then be with me. I know what can make me happy. I know _who_ can make me happy."

Chuck eyed her uncertainly, and she met his eyes with undeniable conviction. "I love you, Chuck Bass. And you finally admitting out loud that you love me is not all that I need. I won't settle for just that. I don't want to just be happy and content, I want to be happiest. And right now, I know you can make me the happiest. You don't need jewelry or flowers or couture to do that for me. More than anything, I just need you to be with me."

Blair motioned forward to reposition herself. He easily welcomed her as she lay cradled in his arms, her ear on his heart. And in a low voice, she beseeched him. "Please don't leave me behind, Chuck," she closed her eyes, appreciating the usually overlooked thud of the heart. "Everyone's always leaving me too, you know."

Chuck didn't answer; he just laid a kiss on her hair and rested his cheek on top of her head.

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_Zutto kokoro wa te wo hirogete mamotteru_  
_Ano koro no kimi ga furikaeru made_  
_NO NEED TO CRY..._

_**/My heart will always open my hands to protect you,**_  
_**until the you back then will turn and look at me**_  
_**No need to cry.../**_

-_**a little pain**_, sung by Olivia Inspi'REIRA (Nana ED1)

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**[1]** "Friends are the family we choose for ourselves." - Edna Buchanan

**[2]** "Friends are God's way of apologizing to us for our families." - Unknown

_**A/n:**_ A super lengthy chappie to make up for the months of inactivity! Hope that makes up for the long hold on this fic. How's my take for "stand by you through anything"?

I'm picking up the pace. The Christmas break getaway was originally to run for five chappies, but it would be dragging.

Oh, and notice the few official GG lines I've employed? Hehe. Sucker for Chair.

As for S04, all eps preceding 4.07 is unacceptable, and so far I can stomach 4.08-4.09 (I actually love Chair because LeighEd are so talented they're the only saving grace). So far S04 has been a barf fest that I'm only tolerating because I'm **SO** into Leighton Meester.

_**Requiescat in pace**_, Chuck/Blair/Chair/Chuck&Eric brotherhood/NJBC friendship.


	5. Paradise Intruded

**DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN GG NOR THE SONGS 'Deep Forest' and 'Kesenai Tsumi' by Nana Kitade AS WELL AS ITS RESPECTIVE ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS.**

_**Author's note:**_ Short chappie, I guess, compared to previous one. Hrm, hrm... Sorry for the months of inactivity. Work has eaten my time and efforts and soul since I graduated from college. Anyway, though this chappie is significantly shorter than the previous ones, the next one will make up in length. Hopefully it doesn't take that long in between updates. X_x But then again, after that long hiatus, I'm excited to have updated once more after such a long time! XD XD XD

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**Watchet on Watch**

~the attitude of a traveler who leaves everything behind and embarks on a journey

~a volatile situation

~the need to be wary of sudden disasters or hardships

*Taken from the manga "The Tarot Cafe" (Chapter 12) by Park Sang-sun

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_**Chapter IV: Paradise Intruded**_

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_**Things are passing and changing and moving around  
but the colors of the sky  
still remain the same as we used to know, every single day...**_

-**Deep Forest** (English version of 'Fukai Mori' sung by Do As Infinity)

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At their request, Marion had the row boat taken to the side of the lake. After dinner, Blair and Chuck sauntered outside, both struggling with pushing the row boat through the surface of the ice. It took some time, but they finally managed to slide it near the middle of the frozen manmade lake. With triumphant sighs, they settled into the hull, both facing each other.

Blair giggled as they settled into their seats. "Well this is nice."

Chuck raised an eyebrow at her. "Talk about recreating summer of '06 in the middle of winter."

"Do you remember when we went skinny dipping?"

Chuck let out a small laugh as his mind replayed that memory. "We were in our underwear because you refused to strip completely. That's not skinny dipping."

Chuck had been the one to come up with the idea, inviting Blair to come along. At around eleven that night, they snuck out of the house and pushed the canoe into the water. Luckily, during summer, the canoe was always placed by the lakeside, so they didn't have to take out the canoe from the shed meters away from the tiny inlet. After rowing themselves to a considerable distance away from the lakeshore, they put away the oars and just lay on their backs, looking up at the brilliant stars that night. Their positions were upside down to the other, like yin and yang as they lay ear by ear, their knees bent as no more space could accommodate their legs to be stretched out. They chatted about trivial topics, their talk laced with the occasional banter. But their lighthearted chatter turned a serious corner, and they found themselves revealing private secrets. Randomly, as a way to get off track from the course of their talk, Chuck had suggested skinny dipping. A self-conscious Blair vehemently shot the idea down, but Chuck, ignoring her indignant refusal, stripped his clothes and got into the water. After much taunting persuasion from a floating Chuck, Blair, fed up, took off her dress and flats, and jumped into the water. The two swam around, chatting and laughing, until they realized they didn't know how to get back in the canoe without overturning it. In the end, they swam while pushing the canoe up to the bank.

"The moon is full tonight," Blair commented as she tilted her head to the sky. The ashen moonlight colored the whiteness of the snow and the darkness of the night with a grey shade.

Chuck also glanced up, took a deep breath of the icy air, and let out a visible mist of breath as he sighed. "This is nice."

A giggle was her reply. "Didn't I tell you?"

Blair then shifted in her position. Instead of facing Chuck, she decided she'd rather be curled up by his side. The world is a cold place, and to avoid freezing, you have to find others to stand beside at to maintain and share warmth.

"Do you think... one day it won't hurt anymore?"

Blair's arms tightened around him. "You won't stop missing them. But life goes on, and someday, you'll just realize you can live with the pain of missing someone."

"How can you be sure?"

Blair bit her lip, a bit uncomfortable to bring up what she had in mind. She never revealed this to anyone, not even Serena or Dorota, but Chuck would know.

"When my dad left for France… that really hurt me."

"I know," Chuck's insertion surprised Blair. "Even though you never talked about it, or gave a clue to it. But I just knew it hurt you more than you let on."

Blair had no words. It was a long time ago, but something pinched at her heart just remembering that time. She leaned her cheek on Chuck's shoulder and closed her eyes. "Yeah, it did. I still miss him, but I've got used to it. I know I can't do anything about it anyway."

"But that's different," Chuck protested, but his voice held no condescension or scolding. "You can still see him, or talk to him. Mine is… it's just different." His tone went down in despondence and Blair clutched him tighter.

"When I miss my dad so much that it's painful, I like to think that he's just at work, and he'll be home late. And when I had no contact while she was in boarding school, I would think that she's just dead asleep from being drunk at a party she attended the other night and that's why she's not answering her phone."

"Isn't that denial?"

"It's coping." Blair playfully hit Chuck on his arm, and this caused him to chuckle. "Think of him being at an overseas business trip and he's going to be away for quite some time."

"I'm not a preschooler, Waldorf. I don't need those kinds of stories."

"Well, that's what I like to think. Maybe he's in Dubai, dealing with his potential Arab clients."

Chuck was silent for a moment before he spoke, "I'd like to think that too. He never really calls when he's on business trips."

They stayed up late in the cold night, clinging to each other and watching the stars. At times, they talked about simple things; at some points they had only comfortable silence, white mists of breaths visibly blowing. Little did they know it would be their last night of peace in that Southern refuge.

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The next morning, Blair pulled Chuck out of bed and dragged him to the barn, where the horses were sheltered. Chuck's late aunt's favorite horse had given birth to a colt last summer, and Blair wanted to see. Harriet had sent them off with a bucket of apples to feed the horses and told them to come back in time for lunch.

The two teens had fun with the horses, feeding them with apples and petting their nuzzles. Chuck and Blair had taken equestrian lessons during elementary and middle school, so they knew how to ride. Blair was just about to saddle one so she could ride the mare, when they were interrupted.

"Mister Bass!"

Chuck and Blair turned at the sound of Marion's voice as he stood at the barn's entrance, his breaths coming out in visible gusts.

"Mister Bass," Marion started as he approached them. "Someone just arrived and asked to see you."

The expressions on both Chuck's and Blair's faces were a mixture of confusion, suspicion, alarm and shock.

Marion pointed behind him. "He's waiting inside the house."

Chuck frowned, and Blair caught his hand, distracting him from his thoughts as he turned his head to look at her.

"Maybe it's Nate." Blair shrugged. "Maybe he's tracked you down? See how you were doing?"

"Did you contact him?" Chuck's eyebrows were furrowed. His question wasn't toned in suspicion, but just curiosity, wondering how they'd be visited by someone when they hadn't really had communication outside the two caretakers of the property.

Blair shook her head.

"Serena? Dorota?"

Blair shook her head again.

Chuck took a deep breath. Blair sensed he was getting a bit nervous. She squeezed his hand, giving his resolve a strengthening boost.

"Let's just see what it's about, okay?"

Chuck looked into Blair's eyes, but not to read her mind as he was more absorbed in his thoughts. Cradling the side of her face, his thumb caressing her cheek while the rest of his fingers were buried in her hair, Chuck finally relented with nod.

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Chuck and Blair followed Marion inside the house, going directly to the foyer where the visitor awaited.

"Nephew." The stranger greeted as he nodded at Chuck in greeting before turning his head to regard Blair. "I didn't know you were shacking with a girl."

"Uncle Jack." Chuck acknowledged, recognizing the only relative he knew from his father's side. Chuck could vaguely remember any memory of his uncle except that he left the country when Chuck was in third grade in elementary. "I didn't see you at the funeral."

"I had some accounts to take care of. I'm sure that's what big brother would've done if it were my funeral instead. Handle business matters before personal issues."

Blair cringed at how Chuck's uncle sounded. It was as if he were talking about missing some other typical event.

But it seemed Chuck hadn't noticed how odd his uncle must come off.

"Anyway," Jack pocketed his hands, his stance businesslike. "If you didn't know, your father left a will. His lawyer won't release it unless we're present in his office."

Chuck frowned. "Why do I have to meet the lawyer? I'm just going to receive a lot of money, money that's easily transferred to bank accounts. The lawyer can just send a copy of the will as customary."

"I'm sure you can't wait to be the richest teen in New York," Jack seemed amused, and Blair couldn't understand how he could take the matter lightly, as if he hadn't just lost a family member, that his approach to the matter was more of a paycheck from a business transaction requiring a few irking demands. "I don't know what's the hold up with the release of your father's will, but your father's lawyer demands to see you, me, and Lily to discuss some aspects of Bart's will."

Chuck found it hard to believe that his father would leave him something behind in death other than this misery. Blair felt Chuck's hand tighten in her own, could feel his unease at the mention of his late father so casually.

"What's the complication with Bart's will?" Blair asked, finally speaking. For all they knew, Jack was just trying to lure the runaways back to New York City.

With a raised eyebrow, Jack looked his nephew's companion up and down. The assessment uneased Blair, so she stepped closer to Chuck's side, even as Jack averted his gaze to his nephew. "Unfortunately, the lawyer won't go into details. He won't say anything until the three people required are in attendance."

For a while, no one spoke. "Fine," Chuck replied in a hard tone. "Let's get this done as soon as possible."

Jack smirked, and Blair felt wary. "No delay. That's good to hear. Get your stuff, and we'll head out in," he checked his watch, "two hours tops, more than enough time for packing. We'll make it to New York late tonight. I'll arrange a date for the meeting with Bart's lawyer, everything will be settled, and then you'll get your money." Turning around, he reached into his pocket for his cellphone, looking for a contact number before putting the device against his ear for a call.

Chuck pulled Blair up the staircase in a hurried pace.

"Chuck, are you sure about this?" Blair asked as she struggled to match his speed. Chuck halted when they reached the front of her bedroom door, almost causing Blair to bump into him. He turned to her, his eyes unreadable, not letting go of her hand. "You should be back in New York."

Immediately, Blair knew he was thinking of letting her go, that she should leave him and this place. "Just as long as I'm staying with you."

He looked unconvinced, and for once, Blair could sense Chuck struggle with the selfishness of having her abandon everything to be by his side and the selflessness of returning her to friends and family. Having had everything given to him except the things he wanted most, like his father's love and his mother's presence, his spoiled, covetous nature which had never been contested was in conflict with the insecure part of him that told him Blair was better off without him, that she'd probably leave him later on when she realized he wasn't good enough. Better let her go while early, because when the time comes that she does leave him would be a more painful event.

"This doesn't change us," Blair held his face and looked straight into Chuck's eyes, her dark eyes and firm features set in determination. "Going back won't change what we have now." Blair squeezed his hand, reminding him that he wasn't the only one holding on to her, she was also holding on to him, because at this point, they could not lose each other.

Chuck took a deep breath as he looked down, as if gathering strength, before he lifted his eyes to connect to hers. "Do _you_ want to go home?" He asked in a small voice.

"_With_ you," was Blair's answer.

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_Futari wa aruki-tsuzukeru Ato ni wa modorenai kara  
Ima demo kono mune no oku Kesenai tsumi wa itamu..._

_**/And together we'll keep on walking, because we can't go back  
Even now, the inerasable sin deep in my chest hurts.../**_

-_**Kesenai Tsumi**_ /Inerasable Sin/, sung by Kitade Nana (Full Metal Alchemist 1st ED)

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_**A/n:**_ Thanks to MegamiTenchi's encouragement, I'm cracking my fingers, ready to get back into my writing groove. I was in a hurry to post this, so there might be some errors that I missed. This is more like a filler part that transitions them back to the city, so there's not much here. =_=

Anyway, to all those who still remember this and continue to read this, THANK YOU~! Hope to hear from you readers in a review. ^_^


	6. Home Bittersweet Home

**DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN GG NOR THE SONGS 'Change the World' by Max Alto and 'Shining Collection' by Michihiro Kuroda AS WELL AS ITS ENGLISH TRANSLATION (from animelyrics -.- com).**

_**Author's note:**_ OMG S06 set pics! HahaXD Saw Chace & Ed almost holding hands. My heart leapt in shipper joy. hahaXD Yup, I ship that irl brotp so fucking hard (sounds so wrong X_x hahaXD)!

As for the wedding spoilers of GG, well… I get why everyone thinks it's Chair, I thought so too at first, but then this morning… I frowned as I realized that it could be Bart/Lily renewing their vows…? o,O

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**Watchet on Watch**

~the attitude of a traveler who leaves everything behind and embarks on a journey

~a volatile situation

~the need to be wary of sudden disasters or hardships

*Taken from the manga "The Tarot Cafe" (Chapter 12) by Park Sang-sun

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_**Chapter V: Home Bittersweet Home**_

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_Yuuutsu no ori de odoru jiyuu to uso ni tsuranukare  
Moroku maichiru puzzle kono shihai kara tobitate_

_**/Dancing in a cage of depression, pierced by lies of freedom  
A fragile puzzle scatters about Fly me away from this dominion.../**_

-**Shining Collection**, sung by Michihiro Kuroda (from Gravitation)

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Blair could feel the anxiety in Chuck as he gripped her hand, especially when they entered New York City. His hand became clammy in her hold as they neared the Palace. With her free hand, Blair rubbed his fingers that were cold despite the heater in the rental car. He was taking deep breaths that from time to time shook when he exhaled.

Jack had made it clear that they were to head to New York as soon as possible. He only gave them three hours to pack, but really, Chuck and Blair came to Virginia with nothing but the clothes on their backs, and they had only acquired a few things during their stay. It wasn't like the two shopped around or looked for souvenirs. They mainly stayed cooped inside the house. The pair didn't really have anything to take back with them, except perhaps, the Christmas gifts they had received.

On their departure, Chuck and Blair decided to wear formal clothes. They couldn't very well return in the clothes they left in. Even with the midtown wardrobe they'd been wearing over the course of their Southern stay, god forbid, Chuck and Blair never wore the same clothes twice. At the attic, Chuck and Blair sifted through the garments of the late Misty as well as her deceased father's suits. Blair chose a classic vintage dress reminiscent of the Prohibition era, while Chuck donned a dark blue suit his grandfather owned. Among the clothes collection at the attic, they also found thick winter coats that matched their outfits.

As soon as they descended the stairs, no time was wasted as they immediately departed. Jack had gotten them a rental car with a driver who would be following behind Jack's limo. Blair suspected Jack needed privacy for calls, and didn't want Chuck nor her to hear any conversation he might have. Chuck didn't raise any question at the separate cars and Blair kept her thoughts to herself, deciding to just give the benefit of the doubt but still be wary. She didn't trust Jack to have Chuck's best interests at heart.

The streets were familiar, and Blair knew that in a few minutes, they would be stopping in front of the Palace. Chuck gripped her hand and faced her. "I'm just going to get a few things from my room, and then I'm leaving. I won't be staying long."

"Where are you going?"

Chuck shrugged. "Back to 1812. I don't want to be around them right now." He stared contemplatively at her before speaking again. "If you want to stay and catch up with Serena, I won't mind."

Blair smiled softly as she laid her free hand on top of his, which was holding her other hand. "Why don't you stay at the penthouse with me? My mother and Cyrus aren't back yet."

Before they left the house, Blair called Dorota, who cried with relief over the phone at finally hearing from her. After informing Dorota of her wellbeing, Blair then told her maid that she and Chuck were in NYC and would arrive at the Waldorf penthouse in the evening. Since Blair asked about Eleanor, Dorota told her that her mother was still somewhere in the tropics, and a return date was not yet fixed.

"Haven't you grown tired of being under the same roof with me?"

Blair shook her head. "No." Perhaps it was due to being back in the city, that Blair turned a bit playful as she batted her eyes and coyly smiled at him. "Please?"

Chuck shook his head as he chuckled at her expression and kissed her cheek. "Okay. I'll stay with you."

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The ding of the elevator signaled that they had arrived at the van der Bass penthouse, the sliding doors opening too quickly for Chuck. Jack stepped out first, and Blair found herself somewhat dragging Chuck across the threshold.

The van der Woodsens along with the Humphreys were sitting on the couches in the foyer. They all stood when they heard the elevator ding, and while the Humphreys stayed behind, Lily, Eric and Serena stood and immediately approached the newcomers, but before they could get closer, Chuck turned away to head up the stairs, avoiding a greeting from his stepfamily.

"I've brought my prodigal nephew back, Lily. As you asked." Jack said as a way of announcing their arrival.

"Thank you, Jack." Lily replied, looking dejectedly at Chuck's back as he disappeared upstairs.

"Now can we get down to business? Starting with the will reading?" Jack spoke to Lily, exasperation evident in his voice.

Lily spared him a slight frowning glance. "We'll talk later."

Rolling his eyes, Jack sauntered to the couches to take a seat, and Rufus engaged him in small conversation.

Blair was left standing.

Serena enveloped her best friend into a tight hug. "I've missed you so much, B. I'm so glad you're back."

Blair returned the welcome hug. "I missed you too, S."

"Now I know how you felt when I suddenly left for boarding school." That was all in the past, and Serena knew that Blair hadn't intended to punish her or show her what Blair had gone through when the blonde just up and left for boarding school out of guilt. But Serena couldn't help but think this was some form of karma.

Serena still hadn't let go, but a tap on their arms made the reunited best friends pull apart. Blair gave Eric a quick but nonetheless heartfelt hug.

"How's Chuck?" Eric inquired, concern apparent in his voice.

"I can't say he's fine, but he's coping. It's still a daily struggle," Blair knew what really plagued the young boy. "Don't mind the silent treatment," Blair gave a reassuring squeeze on Eric's arm. "It'll pass. He's not angry at you. He's just not ready to face you yet."

This time, Lily stepped forward. "It's good to see you, Blair." Serena and Eric made room for Lily, who also gave Blair a hug. This time though, Blair felt a part of her stiffen in her best friend's mother's arms. Blair did not put her arms around Lily.

If Lily sensed Blair's cold regard, she didn't make it known. She smiled uneasily as she pulled away. "We have a surprise welcome back dinner just for the two of you. I hope you and Charles aren't too tired."

Blair's upbringing always groomed her to be polite even if it was feigned. But Blair couldn't help but be dismissive, though she restrained herself. "We're not staying. Chuck's just getting a few things and we'll be leaving when he comes down. We're having dinner at my place."

Lily sighed and her face held disbelief and concern. "But... he should be with family during this time. Maybe you could convince him to stay here?" Lily's hands wrung together. "He can have dinner in his room if he doesn't want to join us tonight, but he... he really should be with us."

Blair snidely smiled, feeling chagrin bubble through her restraint. "I don't think so, Lily. While your offer seems to be for Chuck's benefit, it's out of guilt," Blair eyes looked past Lily to glare at the Brooklyn family settled in the living room. "And not out of concern for Chuck." Blair raised her nose as she regarded Lily, making her displeasure known, hoping to make Lily grow uncomfortable. "He already blames himself for killing his mother because he thinks Bart does. He doesn't need to also blame himself for his father's death because you blamed him. So no, I don't think it's for the best if he stays here." Blair risked Serena's and Eric's anger at a disrespectful gesture towards their mother, but Blair just had to lash out, albeit in a subdued way.

"Blair!" Serena chastised her best friend. She recognized Blair's tone, the same tone she used when taking down someone or pegging someone's self-esteem a notch or two.

Blair gave a glance and a shrug to Serena, indicating that she was standing by what she had said and would not apologize. Blair couldn't believe Lily had the audacity to invite the Humphrey family to a dinner in honor of Chuck's return. Not even a month after her husband's demise and it seemed as if she were rubbing her love affair with Rufus Humphrey on Chuck's face, like salt and pepper and chili to dress a fresh wound. At that point, Lily seemed to embody the evil stepmother archetype in Blair's eyes.

Chuck descended the stairs, his resounding footsteps alerting Blair and the rest to his presence. He carried a small travel bag. Blair turned to push the button for the elevator, and Chuck bypassed his stepfamily to stand beside Blair as they both faced the elevator doors. It didn't take long for it to open and Chuck and Blair stepped inside, nobody daring to call out and stop their exit.

"So when is dinner going to be served?" Jack asked with a cocky grin he always sported, right after the elevator closed in on Chuck and Blair.

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"Miss Blair!" Dorota engulfed her newly returned ward in a tight embrace, which Blair returned. Though Harriet was helpful, she was not as attentive and thorough like Dorota when it came to attending to Blair. Dorota mumbled tearily in Polish, and Blair could only catch snippets, but the message was about concern, not knowing where Blair was or what was happening to her.

"Dorota," Blair's voice was endearing in jest, "you're crushing me!"

The Polish maid pulled away, using her apron to wipe at the corner of her eyes. "I very sorry, Miss Blair. Just very glad you are finally home."

Blair offered a smile and gave another quick hug to Dorota once more. "Do you know when Mother is coming back from her honeymoon?"

Dorota looked at Chuck who was standing behind Blair, just observing their interaction. "I not know when Miss Eleanor and Mister Cyrus arrive."

Blair nodded. "Okay. Well, Dorota, Chuck's staying here in the meantime."

Chuck gave a polite nod at the maid when she looked at him. "I prepare guest room."

Blair shook her head. "No need, Dorota. He's staying with me in my room." Blair ignored the Polish maid's disapproving stare as she muttered under pursed lips in Polish ("God always watching"). Blair took Chuck's hand and they went upstairs to her room.

That night, Chuck and Blair lay on her bed, facing each other and wide awake, staring at each other beyond the darkness that seemed like a wall in between their sight.

"I can't sleep." Blair whispered.

"Why? What's wrong?"

Blair bit her lip in hesitance, but their runaway days had taught her to be bold, to say out loud the things that really meant something instead of leaving it in your heart, unspoken and unheard. "You're not thinking of leaving while I'm sleeping, are you?"

Chuck kept quiet, sensing that Blair was unfinished.

Blair drew a deep breath and released a shaky sigh. "I'm scared that I'm going to wake up alone and find a note from you. And I won't know where you're going, or when—if—you're coming back."

Blair laid a hand on his cheek, her thumb caressing the skin below his eye. In response, Chuck turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand before taking it in his.

"I'm not going anywhere, Blair. I really don't have anywhere to go, except where you are."

"You promise you won't leave?"

Chuck shook his head no. "If you want, you can hold my hand throughout the night to make sure I don't go anywhere."

Blair giggled, and the sound caused Chuck to crack a small smirk. Chuck squirmed a bit closer, so close that they could feel their exhales colliding. Their noses were touching, their foreheads leaning against each other, all the while their eyes were closed, enjoying the skin-on-skin connection. Blair was the one who closed the gap between their lips with a soft kiss, which Chuck gave more pressure and urgency as one of his hands grasped Blair's nape and pulled her closer, if it were possible. With the vigor of the kiss, Blair flipped them so she was straddling Chuck. Their entangled lips lost contact for a while with the change in position. Blair combed her fingers through Chuck's hair before leaning down to place a kiss on op of his heart. She then went up higher to kiss his neck. When Blair reached his lips, she whispered, "I love you," before delving her tongue into his mouth.

Chuck's hands were on her hips, stroking and squeezing. They were rocking against each other, although they were in no hurry. When they made love these days, it was slow and sensuous, as though they were dedicating time to taste and feel each other's skin, engraving the moment in their memory. It made time seem to slow down just for them, and each second seemed to be little grains of forever they spent with one another. Though the movement and acts of their bodies were no different from before, there was a definite distinction between making love and casual sex. Back then, they were always in a frenzy, hurrying to reach that climactic end. But now, they did it more to feel connected like they never were with anyone else, as if somehow for just a few minutes, they were a whole, as though their souls were reunited at last, missing pieces of themselves filled and broken parts renewed. That in a world where they were brought into on their own, they were not alone. And though these private, intimate moments had their duration, the connection was never lost, only reforged until the next.

This intimacy, Chuck realized back then, was what he had been searching for. He had been with countless women in the act of sex, but he had only felt this, found this, with Blair. And it was this connection, this bond that gripped him so, that assured him even with his insecurity and doubt, that he could not leave her, not now, not ever. His heart was already chained to Blair.

But sometimes, in the dark of the night, alone with his thoughts, he wondered if it was the same for Blair.

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Blair awoke to a flurry of butterfly kisses along her face. When Chuck's lips landed on hers, she deepened the kiss with a sigh of content and raked her fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots.

When they pulled apart, Blair's eyes were closed as she sighed with a smile on her lips. "G'morning," she whispered.

Chuck responded with a kiss. "It is a good morning when I wake up to you."

Blair bit her bottom lip as she smiled. "Say it."

"I love you too."

"Now it's a perfect morning," Blair said as she resumed their make-out.

"I'm going to take a shower," Chuck said against her lips, "You're invited to join."

Blair gave a coy grin. "I think a joint shower is a _very_ good way to start the morning."

Chuck immediately shot up from the bed, a chuckling Blair following closely behind as they headed to the bathroom.

Blair was giggling as Chuck got out first while she was left to finish washing up. They'd caught up on morning sex in the shower, and it definitely improved the mood for the day. Once Blair was done, she put on her bathrobe and got out of the bathroom to see Chuck buttoning his shirt in front of her mirror. Unable to resist, Blair embraced him from behind while pressing a kiss on his shoulderblade.

"I'm going to get Dorota to prepare breakfast, alright?" Blair said as she made her way to the door. When she swung open the door, she was not expecting to come face to face with her mother, her face holding back fury. Blair's smile disappeared and Chuck was frozen in his position as he turned his head to see who was at the door.

"M-Moth—" Blair was not able to finish as she was cut off by a slap from Eleanor. Blair stumbled backwards from shock as she held her stinging cheek. It was then that Chuck sprang into action and raced to her, wrapping his arms around her.

Eleanor, still not having spoken a word, now entered Blair's room. She stalked towards the two, her hand raised. Blair shut her eyes tightly in fear of what was to come as Chuck held her closer, an arm around her shoulders and a hand at the back of her head, pressing her face into his chest.

"How dare you… How DARE you!" Eleanor screamed as she started to slap them repeatedly. Eleanor ended up just hitting Chuck as he had Blair in an embrace that shielded her from Eleanor's assault.

Blair only caught a few parts of her mother's rant: "Shameless…! …do this to me…! …What were you THINKING? …ruined…! …not thinking straight! …Harold will HEAR about this! …absolutely irresponsible…!"

Chuck was turning whichever way to prevent Eleanor from reaching Blair. By this time, Cyrus and Dorota had stepped into the room and were holding back the enraged Eleanor.

"If you are pregnant, I swear to God, I am disowning you! I refuse to have a shameless hussy for a daughter!"

"Stop!" Chuck's voice boomed, causing Eleanor to lose her voice.

He took a deep breath in order to gather his thoughts and his errant feelings. He decided he shouldn't lash back a Eleanor; it would only worsen the situation. So he decided to mediate peace and order and disprove Eleanor's demeaning comments about Blair. He let go of Blair to step in front of her to be her shield in case Eleanor decided to attack her once again. "First of all, Blair is not pregnant." Eleanor just turned up her nose at him, letting him speak. Chuck continued, "

"I think it's best that I leave so the two of you can talk."

"Yes, _that_ would be best." Eleanor replied, cold fury lacing her tone.

Chuck has taken just one step when Blair grabbed a fistful of his shirt from behind. He turned to see Blair shaking her head vehemently.

"No! No, you can't leave—" She stilled when Chuck placed a hand on her nape to draw closer so he could place a kiss on her forehead.

"I'll be staying in 1812. Don't worry about me," he reassured her as he pulled away and gathered the small luggage he had with him. Chuck sidestepped Cyrus just as he was leaving the room, and gazed back one last time to Blair before he left the room. He didn't want to leave Blair alone to deal with Eleanor's anger, but he knew his presence was actually making things worse and causing Eleanor's rage to build up. He knew Blair and her mother needed to talk without his distraction. Cyrus, as a last attempt to be polite, escorted Chuck to the elevator.

When Chuck and Cyrus had left, Eleanor dismissed Dorota from the room before she began her tirade. Blair sat on her bed, looking down on her lap as her mother paced back and forth in front of her, arms flailing as she shouted.

"How could you do this to me? Do you know how many reporters have tried to get in touch with me for a statement?"

Although Eleanor's voice reverberated past the walls of her bedroom, it couldn't quite penetrate through Blair's thoughts, which were on Chuck even at that moment.

"I was supposed to be de-stressing in my honeymoon and enjoying some quality time with my new husband, but instead, I am plagued by reporters trying to get a response from me and Lily calling several times a day to ask me if I've heard from you and Charles! Not to mention _your father_ has been on my case for letting this happen! So instead of enjoying the sun with Cyrus, I'm on the phone or on the computer coordinating with PIs in looking for you! None of us knew where you were or if you were safe or God knows what! We were afraid of what we might find, or what state you two would be in. Do you have _any_ idea of the gravity of what you two have done? The repercussions..."

At this point, Blair knew every question presented was rhetorical. Blair kept her head down and stayed silent, deciding that not interrupting her mother's scolding would be best.

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Chuck entered 1812 with what small luggage he had with him. He hadn't been here much ever since Bart had gotten married. For once, Bart wanted to be in the same house as him. Chuck had tried not to let his enthusiasm show. When his father had given him his suite, that added to his cool factor with his peers, but Chuck had been bitter. Not even eighteen yet and it was like his father was kicking him out to live on his own already. It didn't matter that his father funded his luxurious lifestyle. Chuck had felt thrown aside with this "gift", like his father wanted him out of the way.

Wanting to get rid of the gloom of his thoughts, Chuck ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots a bit harder, as if doing so would dig out the thoughts in his head. He didn't want to remember his father, so he slammed the door close, threw his bag somewhere to the side, and headed off to the bar to get wasted.

He did not know how much refills he's had when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw that he received a text from Dorota (probably by Blair's orders). It informed him that Blair was grounded for an indefinite amount of time, she had a curfew (meaning she had to get home straight after her classes), and her phone was confiscated.

Chuck sighed. He felt guilt for putting Blair in a bad position with her mother. He shouldn't have taken her with him, she would've been better off without him...

A knock on the door interrupted Chuck's solitude. He had no idea who would come for him this late in the night. He groaned, hoping that it wouldn't be anyone from the van der Woodsens.

He trudged to the door unwillingly. When he swung the door open, he was surprised to see the one person he wanted to be with. Before he could get a word out, he was enveloped in a hug, her arms around his neck.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, although disbelief still swirled in his muddled head along with the buzz of alcohol. "Blair? What are you doing here?"

He held on to her like a lifeline, the warmth and softness of her skin convincing him that she wasn't an illusion conjured by his alcohol-addled senses. "What are you doing here so late? I got the text from Dorota saying you're grounded with a curfew and your phone was taken away."

"Ugh, I know," Blair rolled her eyes irately at the inconveniences brought about by the conditions of her punishment. "Eleanor practically has me under martial law." She shook her head. "Anyway, I snuck out with Dorota's help and Cyrus' blessing," Blair let out a breath of triumph as she raked her fingers through his hair and then briefly pecked his lips once more. " Eleanor was already asleep when I took off. It's a good thing she sleeps like a log. She will sleep through a hurricane or an earthquake to get her eight-hour beauty sleep."

They share a small laugh at this, and then Blair wraps her arms around his neck to enter in his embrace again. "I'll stay with you until dawn because I have to get home before Mother wakes up and finds me gone." She pulled back to look into his eyes. "I don't want you to be alone. You shouldn't be alone."

Chuck smiled as he kissed her with a dreamy sigh. "I'm not anymore."

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_**This is the feeling you'll understand**__  
__**The troubled life...**__  
__**It won't be too bad to face**__  
__**And any problem you will see**__  
__**Will not to be too hard**__  
__**If I can walk beside you...**_

-**Change the World **(English version), sung by Max Alto (Inuyasha 1st OP)

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_**A/n:**_ Thank you to all those who read this update! ^_^ I hope people are still reading this. X_x Are there readers of this fic still? o,O Hope you leave a review. ^_^ TEAM CHAIR FTW!

_**P.S. HELP**_  
I'm almost finished with Ch9 of "Romance & Revenge". However, I need help with this tiny detail. There's this scene in 1.18 where S&B are in B's room as she packs for Tuscany. Well, B has this line:

_"He wanted to see his dad before he left. Besides, we're taking the helicopter to_ **Teeterborough/Peterborough**(?). _I have to sit in the jumpseat so that I can tell the pilot if I have any thoughts on his flying."_

I'm not sure of the underlined word. Can anyone tell me what word Blair actually said in that scene? Sorry, I'm just really nitpicky about details like this. I promise that the next chapter of R&R will be posted this week. THANK YOU! ^_^


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